Praise for Thanks for the Feedback
“Receiving feedback is a skill, and like most skills, it requires practice and a
willingness to change and improve. . . . [Thanks For The Feedback is] the
best guide I’ve found to learning this skill.”
—Jessica Lahey, The New York Times
Thanks for the Feedback is an extraordinarily useful book. It’s full of
helpful techniques that can be put to use by anyone seeking to manage an
organization, lead a team, engage a business partner, or navigate a
relationship. . . . Stone and Heen have done a remarkable job of showing
individuals and organizations how to leverage the enormous value of
feedback, one of the most powerful instruments available for human
learning.”
Strategy + Business
Thanks for the Feedback takes a 180-degree turn in the usual approach to
feedback. Instead of teaching readers to deliver it effectively, Stone and
Heen show them how to receive it in a way that builds self-awareness and
action planning for improvement. . . . Stone and Heen describe in a
meaningful way what is entirely true about the feedback process: It’s a
complex interchange that is inevitably influenced by the perceptions and
biases of the giver and receiver. An excellent follow up to their bestselling
book Difficult Conversations, Thanks for the Feedback provides a powerful
framework for making feedback work—no matter what it is or how it is
given.”
T+D Magazine
“This unique book addresses how to accept feedback gracefully, whether
your boss is giving you a review, your kids are commenting on their
meatloaf dinner, or your mother-in-law is offering snide commentary on
your parenting style . . . [Stone and Heen] hit it out of the park with well-
researched insight, advice, and tips.”
Parents Magazine
“We all need to get better at hearing feedback. That doesn’t entail always
accepting it, [but] it does mean abandoning the knee-jerk response of railing
against feedback you consider unfair and instead trying to figure out why
the difference of viewpoint has arisen. . . . The book asks a question worth
memorizing: what’s the one thing you see me doing that gets in my own
way?”
The Guardian (London)
“The book isn’t a manifesto for being a pushover: Thanks for the Feedback
instructs in the art of understanding feedback and turning criticism into a
kick-ass attitude. Saints needn’t apply.”
—Evening Standard
“Feedback is everywhere. We may not be able to exert complete control
over what someone else thinks of us but we can certainly do something
about what we choose to do with the feedback. [This] is a sensible, breezily
written book.”
—Financial Times
“Surprisingly little attention has been focused on being an effective
recipient of feedback. Enter Stone and Heen with a well-rounded
consideration of ‘the science and art of receiving feedback well.’ As they
write, both of those disciplines are required to receive feedback in
productive ways—not only in the workplace, but in personal life as
well. . . . The authors do an excellent job of constraining the applications to
feedback usefulness while also exploring some of the other ways we can
define what ‘feedback’ consists of in our lives. With a culture increasingly
focused on the individual and the self, this book on developing the ability to
accept and utilize the input of others constructively deserves a wide
readership.”
Kirkus Reviews
“I’ll admit it: Thanks for the Feedback made me uncomfortable. And that’s
one reason I liked it so much. With keen insight and lots of practical
takeaways, Stone and Heen reveal why getting feedback is so hard—and
then how we can do better. If you relish receiving criticism at work and
adore it in your personal life, then you may be the one person on earth who
can safely skip this book.”
—Daniel H. Pink, author of To Sell Is Human and Drive
Thanks for the Feedback is a potentially life-changing look at one of the
toughest but most important parts of life: receiving feedback. It’s a road
map to less defensiveness, more self-awareness, greater learning, and richer
relationships. Doug Stone and Sheila Heen have delivered another tour de
force.”
—Adam Grant, Wharton professor and author of Give and Take
“Imagine an organization where everyone is actually good at receiving
feedback. Collective anxiety would be reduced. People would learn and
grow. Impossible you say? Thanks to this insanely original and powerful
book, maybe not.”
—Judy Rosenblum, former chief learning officer of Coca-Cola and
founder of Duke Corporate Education
“Startlingly original advice for how to make feedback truly useful.”
—Chris Benko, vice president of global talent management of Merck
“If you want to lead a learning organization, improving the quality of feed‐
back is job one. This book is an essential guide to making that happen.”
—Amy C. Edmondson, Novartis Professor of Leadership and Management,
Harvard Business School, and author of Teaming
“Learning and HR professionals aren’t the only ones who will love this
book. It should be required reading for anyone receiving a performance
appraisal—and anyone who is striving to improve.”
—B. Alan Echtenkamp, executive director of global organization
and leadership development, Time Warner Inc.
“Accepting feedback at work is important, but in families, it’s vital. This
simple, elegant book teaches us how.”
—Bruce Feiler, New York Times columnist and author
of The Secrets of Happy Families
Thanks for the Feedback places the reader in the drivers seat and shifts
the paradigm on who is in charge of the learning.”
—Wagner Denuzzo, director, IBM Management Development
“My management team and I are reading Thanks for the Feedback. We
spend hours discussing it, as if it were directions to a lifetime gift of free
donuts and coffee! We now have a way to set meaningful standards for
productive feedback and most importantly, for developing sensible
solutions with officers who are struggling. Melding your concepts with our
desires of service and professionalism within our California state police
agency are a perfect match. We are integrating the material into a training
we hope to offer the entire department.”
—J. Edwards, Jr., Lieutenant Commander and police academy instructor
Thanks for the Feedback is not about how to give feedback. It’s a far more
powerful book than that. It’s about how to receive feedback. . . . We should
love feedback, positive or negative. But we’re also proud . . . that’s why this
book is so good. We have an image of ourselves as someone who can cope
emotionally with criticism and is open minded. Yet the reality is that we’re
human beings, and very different to each other. The book recognizes that
we each react differently. It provides us with ways to cope, handle, and
grow with feedback.”
—Dan Cottrell, International Rugby Coaching magazine
PENGUIN BOOKS
THANKS FOR THE FEEBACK
Douglas Stone and Sheila Heen are Lecturers on Law at Harvard Law
School and cofounders of Triad Consulting. Their clients include the White
House, Citigroup, Honda, Johnson & Johnson, Time Warner, Unilever, and
many others. Stone Lives in Cambridge. Heen lives with her husband and
three children in a farmhouse north of Cambridge.
ALSO BY DOUGLAS STONE & SHEILA HEEN
Difficult Conversations (with Bruce Patton)
PENGUIN BOOKS
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
375 Hudson Street
New York, New York 10014
penguin.com
First published in the United States of America by Viking Penguin, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 2014
Published in Penguin Books 2015
Copyright © 2014 by Douglas Stone and Sheila Heen
Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant
culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing,
scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to
continue to publish books for every reader.
“Triple Self-Portrait” by Norman Rockwell. Printed by permission of the Norman Rockwell Family Agency. Copyright © 1960
the Norman Rockwell Family Entitites.
Graphs by Julie Munn
THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS HAS CATALOGED THE HARDCOVER EDITION AS FOLLOWS:
Stone, Douglas.
Thanks for the feedback : the science and art of receiving feedback well (even when it is off base, unfair, poorly delivered, and,
frankly, you’re not in the mood) / Douglas Stone, Sheila Heen.
pages cm
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-1-101-61427-3
1. Feedback (Psychology). 2. Interpersonal communication. I. Heen, Sheila. II. Title.
BF319.5.F4S76 2014
153.6’8—dc23
2013036968
While the author has made every effort to provide accurate telephone numbers, Internet addresses, and other contact information
at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author assumes any responsibility for errors or for changes that occur after
publication. Further, the publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party
Web sites or their content.
Version_1
To Anne and Don Stone,
the best parents in the world.
You taught me what matters.
—ds
To John, Benjamin, Peter, and Adelaide,
for accepting me despite my flaws,
and even (occasionally) because of them.
—sh
CONTENTS
PRAISE FOR THANKS FOR THE FEEDBACK
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
ALSO BY DOUGLAS STONE & SHEILA HEEN
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
INTRODUCTION
From Push to Pull
THE FEEDBACK CHALLENGE
1. THREE TRIGGERS
That Block Feedback
TRUTH TRIGGERS
2. SEPARATE APPRECIATION, COACHING, AND EVALUATION
3. FIRST UNDERSTAND
Shift from “That’s Wrong” to “Tell Me More”
4. SEE YOUR BLIND SPOTS
Discover How You Come Across
RELATIONSHIP TRIGGERS
5. DON’T SWITCHTRACK
Disentangle What from Who
6. IDENTIFY THE RELATIONSHIP SYSTEM
Take Three Steps Back
IDENTITY TRIGGERS
7. LEARN HOW WIRING AND TEMPERAMENT AFFECT YOUR STORY
8. DISMANTLE DISTORTIONS
See Feedback at “Actual Size”
9. CULTIVATE A GROWTH IDENTITY
Sort Toward Coaching
FEEDBACK IN CONVERSATION
10. HOW GOOD DO I HAVE TO BE?
Draw Boundaries When Enough Is Enough
11. NAVIGATE THE CONVERSATION
KEYFRAMES OF THE CONVERSATION
THE ARC OF THE CONVERSATION: OPEN-BODY-CLOSE
OPEN BY GETTING ALIGNED
BODY: FOUR SKILLS FOR MANAGING THE CONVERSATION
CLOSE WITH COMMITMENT
PUTTING IT ALL TOGETHER: A CONVERSATION IN MOTION
12. GET GOING
Five Ways to Take Action
NAME ONE THING
TRY SMALL EXPERIMENTS
RIDE OUT THE J CURVE
COACH YOUR COACH
INVITE THEM IN
13. PULL TOGETHER
Feedback in Organizations
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
NOTES ON SOME RELEVANT ORGANIZATIONS
NOTES
ROAD MAP
INTRODUCTION
From Push to Pull
Before you tell me how to do it better, before you lay out your big
plans for changing, fixing, and improving me, before you teach me
how to pick myself up and dust myself off so that I can be shiny and
successful—know this: I’ve heard it before.
I’ve been graded, rated, and ranked. Coached, screened, and
scored. I’ve been picked first, picked last, and not picked at all. And
that was just kindergarten.
We swim in an ocean of feedback.
Each year in the United States alone, every schoolchild will be handed
back as many as 300 assignments, papers, and tests. Millions of kids will be
assessed as they try out for a team or audition to be cast in a school play.
Almost 2 million teenagers will receive SAT scores and face college
verdicts thick and thin. At least 40 million people will be sizing up one
another for love online, where 71 percent of them believe they can judge
love at first sight. And now that we know each other . . . 250,000 weddings
will be called off, and 877,000 spouses will file for divorce.1
More feedback awaits at work. Twelve million people will lose a job and
countless others will worry that they may be next. More than 500,000
entrepreneurs will open their doors for the first time, and almost 600,000
will shut theirs for the last. Thousands of other businesses will struggle to
get by as debates proliferate in the boardroom and the back hall about why
they are struggling. Feedback flies.2
Did we mention performance reviews? Estimates suggest that between
50 and 90 percent of employees will receive performance reviews this year,
upon which our raises, bonuses, promotions—and often our self-esteem—
ride. Across the globe, 825 million work hours—a cumulative 94,000 years
—are spent each year preparing for and engaging in annual reviews.
Afterward we all certainly feel thousands of years older, but are we any
wiser?3
Margie receives a “Meets Expectations,” which sounds to her like
“Really, You Still Work Here?”
Your second graders art project, “Mommy Yells,” was a hot topic at
the school’s Open House Night.
Your spouse has been complaining about your same character flaws
for years. You think of this less as your spouse “giving you feedback,”
and more as your spouse “being annoying.”
Rodrigo reads over his 360-degree feedback report.4 Repeatedly. He
can’t make head or tail of it, but one thing has changed: He now feels
awkward with his colleagues, all 360 degrees of them.
Thanks for the Feedback is about the profound challenge of being on the
receiving end of feedback—good or bad, right or wrong, flippant, caring, or
callous. This book is not a paean to improvement or a pep talk on how to
make friends with your mistakes. There is encouragement here, but our
primary purpose is to take an honest look at why receiving feedback is hard,
and to provide a framework and some tools that can help you metabolize
challenging, even crazy-making information and use it to fuel insight and
growth.
• • •
In 1999, along with our friend and colleague Bruce Patton, we published
Difficult Conversations: How to Discuss What Matters Most. Since then,
we’ve continued to teach at Harvard Law School and to work with clients
across continents, cultures, and industries. We’ve had the privilege of
working with an amazing assortment of people: executives, entrepreneurs,
oil rig operators, doctors, nurses, teachers, scientists, engineers, religious
leaders, police officers, filmmakers, lawyers, journalists, and relief workers.
Even dance instructors and astronauts.
Here’s something we noticed early on: When we ask people to list their
most difficult conversations, feedback always comes up. It doesn’t matter
who they are, where they are, what they do, or why they brought us in.
They describe just how tough it is to give honest feedback, even when they
know it’s sorely needed. They tell us about performance problems that go
unaddressed for years and explain that when they finally give the feedback,
it rarely goes well. The coworker is upset and defensive, and ends up less
motivated, not more. Given how hard it is to muster the courage and energy
to give feedback in the first place, and the dispiriting results—well, who
needs it?
Eventually, someone in the group will pipe up to observe that getting
feedback is often no easier. The feedback is unfair or off base. It’s poorly
timed and even more poorly delivered. And it’s not clear why the giver
thinks they are qualified to offer an opinion; they may be the boss, but they
don’t really understand what we do or the constraints we’re under. We are
left feeling underappreciated, demotivated, and more than a little indignant.
Who needs it?
Interesting. When we give feedback, we notice that the receiver isn’t
good at receiving it. When we receive feedback, we notice that the giver
isn’t good at giving it.
We wondered: What is it that makes feedback such a conundrum for both
givers and receivers? We started listening closely to people as they
described their dilemmas, struggles, and triumphs, and noticed those same
struggles in ourselves. As we worked to develop ways to approach feedback
differently, we soon realized that the key player is not the giver, but the
receiver. And we came to see how this could transform not just how we
handle performance reviews on the job, but how we learn, lead, and behave
in our professional roles and in our personal lives.
WHAT COUNTS AS FEEDBACK?
Feedback includes any information you get about yourself. In the broadest
sense, it’s how we learn about ourselves from our experiences and from
other people—how we learn from life. It’s your annual performance review,
the firm’s climate survey, the local critic’s review of your restaurant. But
feedback also includes the way your son’s eyes light up when he spots you
in the audience and the way your friend surreptitiously slips off the sweater
you knitted her the minute she thinks you’re out of view. It’s the steady
renewal of services by a longtime client and the lecture you get from the
cop on the side of the road. It’s what your bum knee is trying to tell you
about your diminishing spryness, and the confusing mix of affection and
disdain you get from your fifteen-year-old.
So feedback is not just what gets ranked; it’s what gets thanked,
commented on, and invited back or dropped. Feedback can be formal or
informal, direct or implicit; it can be blunt or baroque, totally obvious or so
subtle that you’re not sure what it is.
Like that comment your spouse made a moment ago: “I don’t like the
way those pants look on you.” What do you mean, you don’t like the way
these pants look on me? Is there something wrong with this particular pair
of pants, or was that a passive-aggressive reference to the weight I’ve put
on? Another dig about how I’m living in the past or can’t dress myself,
even as an adult? Are you trying to help me look nice for the party, or is this
your way of easing into asking for a divorce? (What do you mean I’m
overreacting?)
A BRIEF HISTORY OF FEEDBACK
The term “feed-back” was coined in the 1860s during the Industrial
Revolution to describe the way that outputs of energy, momentum, or
signals are returned to their point of origin in a mechanical system.5 By
1909 Nobel laureate Karl Braun was using the phrase to describe the
coupling and loops between components of an electronic circuit. A decade
later the new compound word “feedback” was being used to describe the
recirculating sound loop in an amplification system—that piercing squeal
we all know from high school auditoriums and Jimi Hendrix recordings.
Sometime after World War II the term began to be used in industrial
relations when talking about people and performance management. Feed
corrective information back to the point of origin—that would be you, the
employee—and voilà! Tighten up here, dial back there, and like some Dr.
Seuss contraption, you’re all tuned up for optimum, star-bellied
performance.
In today’s workplace, feedback plays a crucial role in developing talent,
improving morale, aligning teams, solving problems, and boosting the
bottom line. And yet. Fifty-one percent of respondents in one recent study
said their performance review was unfair or inaccurate, and one in four
employees dreads their performance review more than anything else in their
working lives.6
The news is no more encouraging on the managers side: Only 28
percent of HR professionals believe their managers focus on more than
simply completing forms. Sixty-three percent of executives surveyed say
that their biggest challenge to effective performance management is that
their managers lack the courage and ability to have difficult feedback
discussions.7
Something isn’t working. So organizations are spending billions of
dollars each year to train supervisors, managers, and leaders on how to give
feedback more effectively. When feedback meets resistance or is rejected
outright, feedback givers are encouraged to be persistent. They are taught
how to push harder.
We think we have it backwards.
PULL BEATS PUSH
Training managers how to give feedback—how to push more effectively—
can be helpful. But if the receiver isn’t willing or able to absorb the
feedback, then there’s only so far persistence or even skillful delivery can
go. It doesn’t matter how much authority or power a feedback giver has; the
receivers are in control of what they do and don’t let in, how they make
sense of what they’re hearing, and whether they choose to change.
Pushing harder rarely opens the door to genuine learning. The focus
should not be on teaching feedback givers to give. The focus—at work and
at home—should be on feedback receivers, helping us all to become more
skillful learners.
The real leverage is creating pull.
Creating pull is about mastering the skills required to drive our own
learning; it’s about how to recognize and manage our resistance, how to
engage in feedback conversations with confidence and curiosity, and even
when the feedback seems wrong, how to find insight that might help us
grow. It’s also about how to stand up for who we are and how we see the
world, and ask for what we need. It’s about how to learn from feedback—
yes, even when it is off base, unfair, poorly delivered, and frankly, you’re
not in the mood.
We like the word “pull” because it highlights a truth often ignored: that
the key variable in your growth is not your teacher or your supervisor. It’s
you. It’s well and good to hope for that special mentor or coach (and cherish
the ones you come across). But don’t put off learning until they arrive.
Those exceptional teachers and mentors are rare. Mostly, our lives are
populated by everyone else—people who are doing their best but may not
know better, who are too busy to give us the time we need, who are difficult
themselves, or who are just plain lousy at giving feedback or coaching. The
majority of our learning is going to have to come from folks like these, so if
we’re serious about growth and improvement, we have no choice but to get
good at learning from just about anyone.
THE TENSION BETWEEN LEARNING AND BEING ACCEPTED
It seems like that shouldn’t be so hard. After all, humans are naturally wired
for learning. The drive to learn is evident from infancy and rampant by
toddlerhood. Even as adults we memorize baseball stats, travel in
retirement, and throw ourselves into yoga because discovery and progress
are deeply gratifying. Indeed, research on happiness identifies ongoing
learning and growth as a core ingredient of satisfaction in life.
We may be wired to learn, but it turns out that learning about ourselves is
a whole different ball game. Learning about ourselves can be painful—
sometimes brutally so—and the feedback is often delivered with a
forehead-slapping lack of awareness for what makes people tick. It can feel
less like a “gift of learning” and more like a colonoscopy.
Tom’s boss gives him a dressing-down about his “organizational
skills.” On his drive home, Tom silently catalogues his boss’s
inadequacies. He pulls over and jots down a list to keep them
organized.
Monisha, the head of HR, hoped the grim results from the firm’s
climate survey would spark candid conversation among senior
leadership about the need for change. Instead, she got a terse e-mail
from the CFO enumerating the survey’s methodological flaws,
dismissing the results, and questioning Monisha’s motives.
Kendra’s sister-in-law lets slip that the family thinks she is hysterically
overprotective of her children. Perhaps not precisely those words, but
that’s the tape running in Kendra’s mind as she sets the table for the
extended family Sunday dinner.
It’s no wonder that when we see tough feedback coming, we are tempted
to turn and run.
But we know we can’t just tra-la-la down the road of life ignoring what
others have to say, safely sealed in our emotional Ziploc. We’ve heard it
since we were young. Feedback is good for you—like exercise and broccoli.
It makes you stronger and helps you grow. Doesn’t it?
It does. And our life experiences confirm it. We’ve all had a coach or
family member who nurtured our talent and believed in us when no one else
did. We’ve had a friend who laid bare a hard truth that helped us over an
impossible hurdle. We’ve seen our confidence and capabilities grow, our
relationships righted, and our rough edges softened. In fact, looking back,
we have to admit that even that horrendous ex-spouse or overbearing
supervisor taught us as much about ourselves as those who were on our
side. It wasn’t easy, but we know ourselves better now, and like ourselves
more.
So here we are. Torn. Is it possible that feedback is like a gift and like a
colonoscopy? Should we hang in there and take it, or turn and run? Is the
learning really worth the pain?
We are conflicted.
Here’s one reason why. In addition to our desire to learn and improve, we
long for something else that is fundamental: to be loved, accepted, and
respected just as we are. And the very fact of feedback suggests that how
we are is not quite okay. So we bristle: Why can’t you accept me for who I
am and how I am? Why are there always more adjustments, more upgrades?
Why is it so hard for you to understand me? Hey boss, hey team. Hey wife,
hey Dad. Here I am. This is me.
Receiving feedback sits at the intersection of these two needs—our drive
to learn and our longing for acceptance. These needs run deep, and the
tension between them is not going away. But there’s a lot each of us can do
to manage the tension—to reduce anxiety in the face of feedback and to
learn in spite of the fear. We believe that the ability to receive feedback well
is not an inborn trait but a skill that can be cultivated. It may be fraught, but
it can be taught. Whether you currently think of yourself as someone who
receives feedback well or poorly, you can get better. This book shows you
how.
THE BENEFITS OF RECEIVING WELL
Receiving feedback well doesn’t mean you always have to take the
feedback. Receiving it well means engaging in the conversation skillfully
and making thoughtful choices about whether and how to use the
information and what you’re learning. It’s about managing your emotional
triggers so that you can take in what the other person is telling you, and
being open to seeing yourself in new ways. And sometimes, as we discuss
in chapter 10, it’s about setting boundaries and saying no.
The bold-faced benefits of receiving feedback well are clear: Our
relationships are richer, our self-esteem more secure, and, of course, we
learn—we get better at things and feel good about that. And perhaps most
important to some of us, when we get good at receiving feedback even our
toughest feedback interactions come to feel a little less threatening.
In the workplace, treating feedback not just as something to be endured,
but something to be actively sought, can have a profound impact. Feedback-
seeking behavior—as it’s called in the research literature—has been linked
to higher job satisfaction, greater creativity on the job, faster adaptation in a
new organization or role, and lower turnover. And seeking out negative
feedback is associated with higher performance ratings.8
Perhaps this isn’t surprising. People who are willing to look at
themselves are just easier to work with and to live with. Being with people
who are grounded and open is energizing. When you’re open to feedback
your working relationships have more trust and more humor, you
collaborate more productively and solve problems more easily.
In personal relationships, our ability to deal with complaints, requests,
and coaching from our friends and loved ones is crucial. Even in the best
relationships we get frustrated with each other; we hurt each other
accidentally and—on occasion—on purpose. Our ability to sort out how
we’re feeling, why we’re upset, where we are bumping into one another,
drives the long-term health and happiness of those relationships. Marriage
researcher John Gottman has found that a person’s willingness and ability to
accept influence and input from their spouse is a key predictor of a healthy,
stable marriage.9
In contrast, working or living with someone who shuts out feedback or
responds with defensiveness and arguments is exhausting. We walk on
eggshells and live in fear of pointless conflicts. Frank discussion fades and
feedback goes unspoken, depriving the “receiver” of the chance to
understand what’s gone wrong or to fix it. The transaction costs involved in
the simplest problem solving become prohibitive, and important thoughts
and feelings have no outlet. Problems fester and the relationship stagnates.
Insulation leads to isolation.
That’s not just depressing, it’s destructive, particularly today. Columnist
Thomas Friedman observes, “We’re entering a world that increasingly
rewards individual aspiration and persistence and can measure precisely
who is contributing and who is not. If you are self-motivated, wow, this
world is tailored for you. The boundaries are all gone. But if you’re not
self-motivated, this world will be a challenge because the walls, ceilings
and floors that protected people are also disappearing.”10
The rewards are great, and the stakes have never been higher.
This suggests that it’s not just about us; it’s also about our kids. Whether
or not we realize it, how we talk about an unfair performance evaluation in
front of our children teaches them how to react to a bad call that costs them
the ball game. Our kids respond to tough challenges the way they see us
respond to tough challenges. Will a bully’s name-calling eat away at their
self-image? They will look to how we respond to our own setbacks; that
teaches them more about resilience than all our pep talks and lectures
combined.
The transformative impact of modeling is crucial at work as well. If you
seek out coaching, your direct reports will seek out coaching. If you take
responsibility for your mistakes, your peers will be encouraged to fess up as
well; if you try out a suggestion from a coworker, they will be more open to
trying out your suggestions. And this modeling effect becomes more
important as you move up in an organization. Nothing affects the learning
culture of an organization more than the skill with which its executive team
receives feedback. And of course, as you move up, candid coaching
becomes increasingly scarce, so you have to work harder to get it. But
doing so sets the tone and creates an organizational culture of learning,
problem solving, and adaptive high performance.
DIGGING FOR PONIES
There is an old joke about a happy young optimist whose parents are trying
to teach him to see the world more realistically. To that end, they decide to
give him a large sack of horse dung for his birthday.
“What did you get?” asks his grandmother, wrinkling her nose at the
smell.
“I don’t know,” cries the boy with delight as he excitedly digs through
the dung. “But I think there’s a pony in here somewhere!”
Receiving feedback can be like that. It’s not always pleasant. But there
just might be a pony in there somewhere.
THE FEEDBACK CHALLENGE
1
THREE TRIGGERS
That Block Feedback
Let’s start with some good news. Not all feedback is difficult. Your son’s
teacher, astonishingly, praises his social skills. Your customer offers a
clever suggestion about how to handle his order that expedites the process.
You want bangs, but your hairdresser has a better idea, which is, actually, a
better idea. We get this sort of feedback all the time. It helps or it doesn’t,
and either way we’re not much bothered by it.
Most of us do just fine with positive feedback, although even praise can
sometimes leave us uneasy. Perhaps we’re not sure it’s genuine or we fear
we haven’t earned it. But closing the deal, or learning that someone you
admire admires you, or getting that perfect bit of coaching that kicks your
skill level up a notch can be electrifying. We did it, it worked, someone
likes us.
Then there’s the tougher stuff—the feedback that leaves us confused or
enraged, flustered or flattened. You’re attacking my child, my career, my
character? You’re going to leave me off the team? Is that really what you
think of me?
This kind of feedback triggers us: Our heart pounds, our stomach
clenches, our thoughts race and scatter. We usually think of that surge of
emotion as being “in the way”—a distraction to be brushed aside, an
obstacle to overcome. After all, when we’re in the grip of a triggered
reaction we feel lousy, the world looks darker, and our usual
communication skills slip just out of reach. We can’t think, we can’t learn,
and so we defend, attack, or withdraw in defeat.
But pushing our triggered reactions aside or pretending they don’t exist
is not the answer. Trying to ignore a triggered reaction without first
identifying its cause is like dealing with a fire by disconnecting the smoke
alarm.
So triggers are obstacles, but they aren’t only obstacles. Triggers are also
information—a kind of map—that can help us locate the source of the
trouble. Understanding our triggers and sorting out what set them off are the
keys to managing our reactions and engaging in feedback conversations
with skill.
Let’s take a closer look at that map.
THREE FEEDBACK TRIGGERS
Because feedback givers are abundant and our shortcomings seemingly
boundless, we imagine that feedback can trigger us in a googolplex of
ways. But here’s more good news:
There are only three.
We call them “Truth Triggers,” “Relationship Triggers,” and “Identity
Triggers.” Each is set off for different reasons, and each provokes a
different set of reactions and responses from us.
Truth Triggers are set off by the substance of the feedback itself—it’s
somehow off, unhelpful, or simply untrue. In response, we feel indignant,
wronged, and exasperated. Miriam experiences a truth trigger when her
husband tells her she was “unfriendly and aloof” at his nephew’s bar
mitzvah. “Unfriendly? Was I supposed to get up on the table and tap
dance?” This feedback is ridiculous. It is just plain wrong.
Relationship Triggers are tripped by the particular person who is giving
us this gift of feedback. All feedback is colored by the relationship between
giver and receiver, and we can have reactions based on what we believe
about the giver (they’ve got no credibility on this topic!) or how we feel
treated by the giver (after all I’ve done for you, I get this kind of petty
criticism?). Our focus shifts from the feedback itself to the audacity of the
person delivering it (are they malicious or just stupid?).
By contrast, Identity Triggers focus neither on the feedback nor on the
person offering it. Identity triggers are all about us. Whether the feedback is
right or wrong, wise or witless, something about it has caused our identity
—our sense of who we are—to come undone. We feel overwhelmed,
threatened, ashamed, or off balance. We’re suddenly unsure what to think
about ourselves, and question what we stand for. When we’re in this state,
the past can look damning and the future bleak. That’s the identity trigger
talking, and once it gets tripped, a nuanced discussion of our strengths and
weaknesses is not in the cards. We’re just trying to survive.
Is there anything wrong with any of the reactions above? If the feedback
is genuinely off target or the person giving it has proven untrustworthy, or
we feel threatened and off balance, aren’t these responses pretty reasonable?
They are.
Our triggered reactions are not obstacles because they are unreasonable.
Our triggers are obstacles because they keep us from engaging skillfully in
the conversation. Receiving feedback well is a process of sorting and
filtering—of learning how the other person sees things; of trying on ideas
that at first seem a poor fit; of experimenting. And of shelving or discarding
the parts of the feedback that in the end seem off or not what you need right
now.
And it’s not just the receiver who learns. During an effective
conversation, the feedback giver may come to see why their advice is
unhelpful or their assessment unfair, and both parties may understand their
relationship in a clarifying light. They each see how they are reacting to the
other, showing a way forward that’s more productive than what either
imagined before.
But it’s nearly impossible to do any of this from inside our triggers. And
so we make mistakes that cause us to put potentially valuable feedback into
the discard pile, or just as damaging, we take to heart feedback that is better
left at the curb.
WHY WE GET TRIGGERED AND WHAT HELPS
Let’s look more closely at each of the three triggers and get an overview of
what we can do to manage them more effectively.
1. TRUTH TRIGGERS: THE FEEDBACK IS WRONG, UNFAIR, UNHELPFUL
There are lots of good reasons not to take feedback, and at the front of the
line stands this one: it’s wrong. The advice is bad, the evaluation is unjust,
the perception someone has of us is outdated or incomplete. We reject,
defend, or counterattack, sometimes in the conversation but always in our
minds.
But understanding the feedback we get well enough to evaluate it fairly
turns out to be much harder than it appears. Below are three reasons why
and what helps.
Separate Appreciation, Coaching, and Evaluation
The first challenge in understanding feedback is that, surprisingly often, we
don’t know whether it is feedback, and if it is, we’re not sure exactly what
kind it is or how on earth it’s supposed to help us. Yes, we did ask for
feedback; no, we did not ask for whatever it is that they’ve just offered us.
Part of the problem is that the word “feedback” can mean a number of
different things. A pat on the back is feedback, and so is a dressing-down.
Helpful pointers are feedback, and so is getting voted off the island. These
aren’t just positive and negative; they’re fundamentally different kinds of
feedback, with entirely different purposes.
The very first task in assessing feedback is figuring out what kind of
feedback we are dealing with. Broadly, feedback comes in three forms:
appreciation (thanks), coaching (here’s a better way to do it), and evaluation
(here’s where you stand). Often the receiver wants or hears one kind of
feedback, while the giver actually means another. You finally show your
professional artist friend the self-portrait you painted. At this stage of your
development, what you need is a little encouragement, something along the
lines of “Hey, cool. Keep working at it.” What you get instead is a list of
twelve things you need to fix.
We can flip this story. You showed your work to your professional artist
friend because you were hoping for a list of twelve things to fix, and instead
get a “Hey, cool. Keep working at it.” How is that going to help you get
better?
Know what you want, and know what you’re getting. The match matters.
First Understand
Sounds obvious, seems easy: Before you figure out what to do with the
feedback, make sure you understand it. Like us, you probably think you’re
doing this already. You listen to the feedback. You accept it or you reject it.
But in the context of receiving feedback, “understanding” what the other
person means—what they see, what they’re worried about, what they’re
recommending—is not so easy. In fact, it’s flat-out hard.
Consider Kip and Nancy. They work for an organization that recruits
talent for sought-after jobs overseas. Nancy tells Kip that he seems biased
against candidates with nontraditional backgrounds. Nancy says that his
bias is “seeping through” during interviews.
At first, Kip dismisses this feedback. His bias does not “seep through”
because he does not have a bias. In fact, although Nancy is unaware of it,
Kip himself has a nontraditional background, and if anything, he worries
that he tends to favor candidates who’ve had the initiative to chart their own
course in life.
So as far as Kip can tell, this feedback is simply wrong. Are we
suggesting that he should accept it as right, nonetheless? No. We’re saying
that Kip doesn’t yet know what the feedback actually means. The first step
is for him to work harder to understand exactly what Nancy sees that is
causing concern.
Kip eventually asks Nancy to clarify her feedback, and she explains:
“When you interview traditional candidates, you describe common
challenges the job presents, and observe how they reason through it. With
nontraditional candidates, you don’t discuss the job. You just shoot the
breeze about the candidate’s coffee cart business or travels with the
merchant marine. You’re not taking them seriously.”
Kip is starting to understand and offers Nancy his view in response: “In
my mind, I’m taking them very seriously. I’m listening for their persistence
and resourcefulness—critical skills for demanding overseas jobs with
unclear boundaries and harsh conditions. That’s better than presenting some
hypothetical challenge.”
Following the guideline to first understand, Kip is getting a sense of
where Nancy is coming from and Nancy is getting a sense of Kip’s
perspective. A good start, but as we’ll see below, there’s still a ways to go.
See Your Blind Spots
Complicating our desire to understand feedback is the matter of blind spots.
Of course, you don’t have blind spots, but you know that your colleagues,
family, and friends certainly do. That’s the nature of blind spots. We’re not
only blind to certain things about ourselves; we’re also blind to the fact that
we’re blind. Yet, gallingly, our blind spots are glaringly obvious to
everybody else.
This is a key cause for confusion in feedback conversations. Sometimes
feedback that we know is wrong really is wrong. And sometimes, it’s just
feedback in our blind spot.
Let’s come back to Kip and Nancy. Nancy sees something important that
Kip can’t: Kip. She watches and hears Kip when he is conducting
interviews. She’s noticed that Kip is more animated when he interviews
nontraditional candidates; he talks louder and interrupts more often, giving
them less space—and sometimes almost no space—to make their case.
Kip is so surprised by this observation that he can barely believe it’s true.
He simply was not aware he was doing that. And he’s dismayed: If what
Nancy is saying is right, then despite his good intentions, he might actually
be disadvantaging the candidates that he is most excited to talk to. His
slight bias in favor of these nontraditional candidates is actually working
against them.
So Kip and Nancy have each learned something from their conversation.
Nancy understands Kip’s intentions in a more generous light, and Kip is
starting to get a handle on how his behavior is actually affecting the
interviews. The conversation isn’t over, but they are in a better place to
straighten things out.
Managing truth triggers is not about pretending there’s something to
learn, or saying you think it’s right if you think it’s wrong. It’s about
recognizing that it’s always more complicated than it appears and working
hard to first understand. And even if you decide that 90 percent of the
feedback is off target, that last golden 10 percent might be just the insight
you need to grow.
2. RELATIONSHIP TRIGGERS: I CAN’T HEAR THIS FEEDBACK FROM YOU
Our perception of feedback is inevitably influenced (and sometimes tainted)
by who is giving it to us. We can be triggered by something about the giver
—their (lack of) credibility, (un)trustworthiness, or (questionable) motives.
We can likewise be triggered by how we feel treated by that person. Do
they appreciate us? Are they delivering the feedback in a respectful manner
(by e-mail? Are you kidding?). Are they blaming us when the real problem
is them? Our twenty years of simmering history together can intensify our
reaction, but interestingly, relationship triggers can get tripped even when
we have only twenty seconds of relationship history at this red light.
Don’t Switchtrack: Disentangle What from Who
Relationship triggers produce hurt, suspicion, and sometimes anger. The
way out is to disentangle the feedback from the relationship issues it
triggers, and to discuss both, clearly and separately.
In practice, we almost never do this. Instead, as receivers, we take up the
relationship issues and let the original feedback drop. From the point of
view of the person giving us the feedback, we have completely changed the
topic—from their feedback to us (“be on time”) to our feedback to them
(“don’t talk to me that way”). The topic of “who” defeats the topic of
“what” and the original feedback is blocked. We call this dynamic
Switchtracking.
Let’s come back to Miriam at the bar mitzvah. In addition to
experiencing a truth trigger, Miriam also endures a relationship trigger.
When her husband, Sam, accuses her of being aloof, she feels
unappreciated and hurt, and so she switchtracks: “Do you have any idea
what I went through just to get to that bar mitzvah? I rearranged Mom’s
dialysis and got Matilda bathed and dressed so she’d look presentable at the
party for your nephew, the one whose name you can’t even remember.”
Miriam raises important concerns about appreciation and division of
chores, but she is effectively changing the topic from Sam’s feedback about
her unfriendliness to her feelings about Sam’s lack of appreciation. If Sam
is genuinely troubled that Miriam is not treating his family as warmly as
he’d like, that’s an important conversation to have—as is the conversation
about Miriam’s feeling underappreciated. But they are two different topics,
and should be two different conversations.
Trying to talk about both topics simultaneously is like mixing your apple
pie and your lasagna into one pan and throwing it in the oven. No matter
how long you bake it, it’s going to come out a mess.
Identify the Relationship System
The first kind of relationship trigger comes from our reaction to the other
person: I don’t like how I am being treated, or I don’t trust your judgment.
We can have these reactions even when the feedback itself has nothing to
do with the relationship. You might be teaching me how to hit a tennis ball
or balance a checkbook.
But often, feedback is not only happening in the context of a
relationship; it’s created by the relationship itself. Embedded in the hurly-
burly of every relationship is a unique pairing of sensitivities, preferences,
and personalities. It is the nature of our particular pairing—rather than
either of us individually—that creates friction. The giver is telling us that
we need to change, and in response we think: “You think the problem is
me? That’s hilarious, because the problem is very obviously you.” The
problem is not that I am oversensitive; it’s that you are insensitive.
Another example: You set aggressive revenue targets to motivate me. But
they don’t motivate me; they discourage me. When I come up short, your
fix is to set even higher targets to “light a fire under me.” Now I feel more
hopeless. We each point our finger at the other, but neither of us is putting
our finger on the problem. Neither of us sees that we are both caught in a
reinforcing loop of this two-person system and that we are each doing
things that perpetuate it.
So feedback in relationships is rarely the story of you or me. It’s more
often the story of you and me. It’s the story of our relationship system.
When they blame you, and it feels unfair, blaming them back is not the
answer. To them, that will seem unfair, and worse, they’ll assume you’re
making excuses. Instead, work to understand it this way: “What’s the
dynamic between us and what are we each contributing to the problem?”
3. IDENTITY TRIGGERS: THE FEEDBACK IS THREATENING AND I’M OFF BALANCE
Identity is the story we tell ourselves about who we are and what the future
holds for us, and when critical feedback is incoming, that story is under
attack. Our security alarm sounds, the brain’s defense mechanisms kick in,
and before the giver gets out their second sentence we’re gearing up to
counterattack or pass out. Our response can range from a minor adrenaline
jolt to profound destabilization.
Learn How Wiring and Temperament Affect Your Story
Not everyone shuts down in the same way, in response to the same things,
or for the same amount of time. This is the first challenge of understanding
identity triggers: At a purely biological level, we’re all wired differently and
we each respond in our own way to stressful information, just as we each
respond in our own way to roller-coaster rides. Raissa can’t wait to get on
the roller coaster for a second and third time; Elaine feels that that one ride
may have ruined the entire rest of her life. Understanding the common
wiring patterns as well as your own temperament gives you insight into
why you react as you do, and helps explain why others don’t react the way
you expect them to.
Dismantle Distortions
Consider Laila. Whether due to wiring, life experience, or both, she is
highly sensitive to feedback. Whatever the feedback is, she distorts and
magnifies it. She’s not responding to the words of the giver; she’s
responding to her distorted perception of those words.
When her boss comments that she’ll need to be “on her game” at
tomorrow’s meeting, she wonders whose game her boss thinks she’s been
on up to now. Does he think I don’t know what I’m doing? Does he think I
don’t understand the importance of the meeting? She recalls other
interactions she’s had with him and starts to question whether he’s ever had
any confidence in her and, given what a screwup she is, whether he even
should. Fifteen years of past mistakes come flooding to the fore. She
doesn’t sleep that night, and is a mess during the meeting.
Luckily for Laila (and the rest of us), it is possible to learn to keep
feedback in perspective, even when doing so doesn’t come naturally. Laila
needs to become aware of the ways she typically distorts feedback and the
patterns her mind follows. Once aware, she can begin systematically to
dismantle those distortions. That in turn helps her to regain her balance and
allows her to engage with and learn from the feedback.
Cultivate a Growth Identity
In addition to her tendency to distort the feedback, Laila has a mindset
challenge: She sees the world as one big test. Every day at work is a test,
every meeting is a test, every interaction with a boss or friend is a test. And
every instance of feedback is a test result, a verdict. So even when someone
offers her coaching or encouragement—“be on your game tomorrow!”—
she hears it as a damning assessment that she’s not.
Research conducted at Stanford points to two very different ways people
tell their identity story and the effect that can have on how we experience
criticism, challenge, and failure. One identity story assumes our traits are
“fixed”: Whether we are capable or bumbling, lovable or difficult, smart or
dull, we aren’t going to change. Hard work and practice won’t help; we are
as we are. Feedback reveals “how we are,” so there’s a lot at stake.
Those who handle feedback more fruitfully have an identity story with a
different assumption at its core. These folks see themselves as ever
evolving, ever growing. They have what is called a “growth” identity. How
they are now is simply how they are now. It’s a pencil sketch of a moment
in time, not a portrait in oil and gilded frame. Hard work matters; challenge
and even failure are the best ways to learn and improve. Inside a growth
identity, feedback is valuable information about where one stands now and
what to work on next. It is welcome input rather than upsetting verdict.
• • •
In chapters 2 through 9, we take a closer look at each of our triggers, the
way they trip us up, and key strategies for handling them more
productively. In chapters 10 and 11 we turn to the question of when it’s
okay to turn down feedback and how to handle the feedback conversation
itself. In chapter 12 we offer a handful of powerful ideas for testing out
feedback and getting quick traction on growth.
Finally, in chapter 13, we look at feedback in groups, and present ideas
for creating pull in organizations. When it comes to our teams, our families,
our firms, and our communities, we really are in it together. We can
generate pull within our organizations and our teams by inspiring
individuals to drive their own learning and seek out surprises and
opportunities for growth. And we can help each other to stay balanced
along the way.
While names have been changed, the stories are based on the experiences
of real people. We hope you recognize yourself at times, feel reassured
always, and come to see that you are not alone in the struggle.
TRUTH TRIGGERS
and the challenge to
SEE
Truth Triggers (and the challenge to SEE)
In the next three chapters we look at truth triggers. Truth triggers are created by our
cognitive and emotional reaction to feedback when it seems wrong or off target. When we
are triggered, it's hard to see—to see what type of feedback we're getting (chapter 2), to
see what the giver means (chapter 3), and to see ourselves clearly (chapter 4).
Chapter 2 distinguishes among three types of feedback and helps you see why it matters
which kind of feedback you want and which kind of feedback you are getting. It always
comes down to purpose.
In chapter 3, we show you how to interpret feedback—where it’s coming from, what it’s
suggesting you do differently, and why you and the giver might disagree. We examine why
understanding feedback is so hard in the first place, and give you the tools you need to get
it right.
In chapter 4 we look at blind spots, and make the case that you have them even if you’re
pretty sure you don’t. We show you the impact they have, and why it’s such a challenge to
see yourself as others do. And we’ll offer some ideas for how to beat your blind spots and
learn despite them.
As you approach these chapters, have this question marinating in the back of your mind:
Why is it that when we give feedback we so often feel right, yet when we receive feedback it
so often feels wrong? After finishing chapter 4, you’ll have the answer.
2
SEPARATE APPRECIATION, COACHING,
AND EVALUATION
It’s a beautiful spring Saturday.
Dad takes his twin daughters, Annie and Elsie, to the park to work on
their batting. He shows them how to adjust their stance, maintain a level
swing, and keep their eye on the ball.
Annie finds the experience exhilarating. She’s spending time with her
dad on the freshly cut grass, and can feel herself improve with each crack of
the bat. Elsie, meanwhile, is glum. She slumps against the fence, and when
Dad tries to cajole her into the batters box to offer tips on timing, she
scowls: “You think I’m uncoordinated! You always criticize me!”
“I’m not criticizing,” Dad corrects. “Honey, I’m trying to help you
improve.”
“See!” Elsie wails. “You think I’m not good enough!” The bat clatters to
the dirt as she stomps off the field.
ONE DAD, TWO REACTIONS
Dad is puzzled. From his point of view, he’s treating both twins the same,
yet their responses to his feedback could not be more different. One
receives his coaching as intended, using the tips to sharpen her skills and
build her confidence. The other retreats in frustration, refusing to try, angry
with him for even offering an opinion.
Dad is, in fact, treating the girls the same. He’s offering the same advice
in the same tone of voice. If we were watching the action from the
bleachers, we’d see no difference.
But at the plate, the difference is clear. Each girl is hearing something
different in Dad’s words. To Annie, Dad’s advice is like a softball thrown
down the middle of the plate; to Elsie, it’s like being hit by a pitch.
This is one of the paradoxical aspects of getting feedback. Sometimes we
feel like Annie—grateful, eager, energized. At other times we react like
Elsie—hurt, defensive, resentful. Our responses don’t always hinge on the
skill of the giver or even on what is being said. Rather, they’re based on
how we are hearing what’s said and which kind of feedback we think we
are getting.
THERE ARE THREE KINDS OF FEEDBACK
The company you work for was recently acquired, your role changed, and
your team reshuffled. It’s a chaotic and uncertain time, and you and a
colleague from the old company meet up regularly after hours at the bar
across the street to compare notes on the transition.
One evening you mention to your friend that you’re not getting any
feedback from your new boss, Rick. Your friend is surprised: “Just
yesterday Rick was telling everyone at the meeting how grateful he is to
have you on the team. I’d call that feedback. What do you want, a trophy?”
Sure, Rick appreciates you, which is nice. But you have something else
in mind: “Here’s the problem. I used to be the head of marketing for the
greater Miami area. Now I’m head of product campaigns for the Pacific
Rim. I don’t even know what the Pacific Rim is.” A trophy would be nice,
but what you really need is some coaching.
A few weeks later your friend asks how it’s going. Generally well, you
explain: “I told Rick that I needed more direction. So we meet each week to
go over what I’m doing and questions I have. He’s got a lot of insight into
the region.” Your friend is envious: “So Rick appreciates you. Rick coaches
you. Sounds like you’re pretty set on the feedback front.”
But you’re not. There’s one other thing. Since the merger, you’re unsure
where you stand. Titles and roles now overlap, and there’s always talk of
cutbacks. “I can’t tell whether I’m just filling a hole until Rick can find
someone with better background for this,” you admit to your friend. “I’m
learning as fast as I can, but I don’t know if I’m part of his long-term vision
or just a stopgap.”
Your friend suggests you raise the issue directly with Rick, and you do.
Rick tells you that he’s done a careful evaluation of your work and thinks
it’s extremely strong. And then he lets on that he’s grooming you to be his
successor when he moves on to a new role at the parent company.
That evening you share the good news with your friend, and he
congratulates you heartily. And then adds: “As long as we’re on the topic of
feedback, how come you never ask for feedback from me?” You counter:
“Because you don’t have feedback for me.” After an awkward silence, you
say, “Okay, what?” And with surprising aggressiveness, your friend says
this: “When’s the last time you picked up the check? When’s the last time
you talked about anyone but yourself?” Holy cow.
Your friend calls this feedback, but you’re pretty sure it’s called picking a
fight.
These conversations between you and Rick, and you and your friend,
highlight that when we use the word “feedback,” we may be referring to
any of three different kinds of information: appreciation, coaching, and
evaluation. Each serves an important purpose, each satisfies different needs,
and each comes with its own set of challenges.1
APPRECIATION
When your boss says how grateful he is to have you on the team, that’s
appreciation.
Appreciation is fundamentally about relationship and human connection.
At a literal level it says, “thanks.” But appreciation also conveys, “I see
you,” “I know how hard you’ve been working,” and “You matter to me.”
Being seen, feeling understood by others, matters deeply. As children
these needs are right on the surface as we call across the playground, “Hey,
Mom! Mom! Mom! Watch this!” If, as adults, we learn not to pester quite
so obviously, we never outgrow the need to hear someone say, “Wow, look
at you!” And we never outgrow the need for those flashes of
acknowledgment that say, “Yes, I see you. I ‘get’ you. You matter.”
Appreciation motivates us—it gives us a bounce in our step and the
energy to redouble our efforts. When people complain that they don’t get
enough feedback at work, they often mean that they wonder whether
anyone notices or cares how hard they’re working. They don’t want advice.
They want appreciation.
COACHING
When you ask your boss for more direction, you’re asking for coaching.
Coaching is aimed at trying to help someone learn, grow, or change. The
focus is on helping the person improve, whether it involves a skill, an idea,
knowledge, a particular practice, or that person’s appearance or personality.
In the realm of executive coaching, "coaching" is sometimes used as a term
of art to describe a facilitative approach to learning, where the coachee sets
the agenda. We include this, but use the word more generally to include
mentoring or any other feedback that is intended to help someone grow.
Your ski instructor, the guy at the Apple Genius Bar, the veteran waiter
assigned to show you the ropes on your first day, and that empathetic friend
who advises you on your mixed-up personal life are all coaches in this
sense. So are bosses, clients, grandparents, peers, siblings, even our direct
reports and children. And of course, we all have “accidental” coaches. That
knucklehead in the Land Rover behind you has a point that you should get
off your cell phone and stay in your lane.
Coaching can be sparked by two different kinds of needs. One is the need
to improve your knowledge or skills in order to build capability and meet
novel challenges. In your new role you’re working to learn about the
markets, products, channels, culture—and location—of the Pacific Rim.
In the second kind of coaching feedback, the feedback giver is not
responding to your need to develop certain skills. Instead, they are
identifying a problem in your relationship: Something is missing,
something is wrong. This type of coaching is often prompted by emotion:
hurt, fear, anxiety, confusion, loneliness, betrayal, or anger. The giver wants
this situation to change, and (often) that means they want you to change:
“You don’t make our family a priority,” “Why am I always the one who has
to apologize?” or “When’s the last time you picked up the check?” The
“problem” the coaching is aimed at fixing is how the giver is feeling, or a
perceived imbalance in the relationship.
EVALUATION
When your boss says your performance is “extremely strong” and that he’s
grooming you for his job, that’s evaluation (in this case, positive).
Evaluation tells you where you stand. It’s an assessment, ranking, or rating.
Your middle school report card, your time in the 5k, the blue ribbon
awarded your cherry pie, the acceptance of your marriage proposal—these
are all evaluations. Your performance review—“outperforms” or “meets
expectations” or “needs improvement”—is an evaluation. And so is that
nickname your team has for you when you’re not around.
Evaluations are always in some respect comparisons, implicitly or
explicitly, against others or against a particular set of standards. “You are
not a good husband” is shorthand for “You are not a good husband
compared with what I hoped for in a husband” or “compared with my
saintly father” or “compared with my last three husbands.”
Evaluations align expectations, clarify consequences, and inform
decision making. Your rating has implications for your bonus, your time in
the backstroke means you did or didn’t qualify. Part of what can be hard
about evaluation is concern about possible consequences—real or imagined.
You didn’t qualify (real), and never will (predicted or imagined).
And sometimes, evaluations contain judgments that go beyond the
assessment itself: Not only didn’t you qualify in the backstroke, but you
were naïve to think you would, and so, once again, you’ve fallen short of
your potential. The judgment that you are naïve or falling short is not based
on the assessment—the outcome of the race. It’s an additional layer of
opinion on top of it. And it is the bullwhip of negative judgment—from
ourselves or others—that produces much of our anxiety around feedback.
Surprisingly, reassurance—“You can do this” and “I believe in you”—
also falls into the category of additional judgments, but on the positive side.
PLAYING TO THE GALLERY
Six years of classical violin lessons instilled in Luke solid technical skills, but no love of the
violin. Then someone handed him a ukulele, and he was hooked. He quickly made a name for
himself locally, and when America’s Got Talent came to town, he auditioned successfully for
the show.
The seventeen-year-old performed in front of a hometown audience of five thousand. The
spotlight obscured the audience but not the three neon red X’s that glowed at his feet. Sharon
Osbourne shook her head, and Howard Stern said theatrically, “My mother made me play the
clarinet. Your mother should never have let you play the ukulele.” The audience roared with
laughter.
Stunned, Luke turned wordlessly and stumbled offstage, where he was accosted by a
camera crew: “How do you feel? What do you make of the judges’ feedback?”
Good question.
In the days and weeks that followed, amid red-X nightmares, one thing finally became
clear to Luke: The primary purpose of the show is not a thoughtful evaluation of each
contestant’s talent, for the contestant’s sake. The main purpose is to entertain the TV
audience. This was feedback to him only in the loosest sense. It was evaluation, certainly,
almost a parody of evaluation: The judges told him where he stood vis-à-vis a future on the
show, and certainly they conveyed their contempt for the ukulele as an instrument.
It’s easy to see the distinction between entertainment and real feedback when it involves
someone else. But when it’s about us, it’s harder.
These days it’s more important than ever to learn how to make that distinction. The arenas
for vitriolic “feedback” are proliferating: online comments, message boards, blogs, talk radio,
reality TV. Harsh commentary, malicious attacks, and anonymous venting in these forums are
common, catering to reader cheers or jeers. The commenters are focused on saying something
they think is clever or biting or attention-getting, and they may not even be aware of the real
people behind the post they are using as a punching bag.
Luke is still performing. “It wasn’t easy to get back on stage, in part because I had to step
onto the same stage three weeks later,” he says. He had previously won the region’s teen
talent competition with his playful juxtaposition of Bach, Sinatra, and rock and roll and he
was invited to do a showcase performance as the winner.
Now Luke says he wouldn’t trade his America’s Got Talent experience for the world. “I
learned a huge amount about myself. Nothing scares me now,” Luke laughs. “The worst thing
that could happen? It already did, and I survived.”
WE NEED ALL THREE
Each form of feedback—appreciation, coaching, and evaluation—satisfies a
different set of human needs. We need evaluation to know where we stand,
to set expectations, to feel reassured or secure. We need coaching to
accelerate learning, to focus our time and energy where it really matters,
and to keep our relationships healthy and functioning. And we need
appreciation if all the sweat and tears we put into our jobs and our
relationships are going to feel worthwhile.
Type of
Feedback
Giver’s Purpose
Appreciation To see, acknowledge, connect, motivate, thank
Coaching To help receiver expand knowledge, sharpen skill, improve capability
Or, to address the givers feelings or an imbalance in the relationship
Evaluation To rate or rank against a set of standards, to align expectations, to inform
decision making
EVALUATION SHORTFALLS
Because evaluation is so loud and can have such hurtful consequences, it’s
tempting to consider removing it from the feedback mix. Do we really need
it?
It is smart to avoid evaluation when your purpose is coaching. Don’t say,
“You’re no good,” when what you really mean to say is “Here’s how to get
better.”
But doing away with evaluation altogether leaves a conspicuous silence.
Should I put my name in for the new position, or am I wasting my time?
Where is this relationship going? Are we moving in because we’ll soon be
engaged, or because you want to save some money while you wait for
someone better?
We are anxious about being assessed and judged, but at the same time,
we need an “evaluative floor” on which to stand, reassuring us that we are
good enough so far. Before I can take in coaching or appreciation, I need to
know that I’m where I need to be, that this relationship is going to last.
When evaluation is absent, we use coaching and appreciation to try to
figure out where we stand. Why does the boss give me so much coaching
on handling the customer more effectively? And why was I singled out for
appreciation in that first group e-mail, but not the second? Should I be
concerned? In the absence of clear signals, I’ll keep putting my ear to the
ground to listen for rumblings in anything that passes by.
APPRECIATION SHORTFALLS
Appreciation can seem the least important of the three kinds of feedback—
who needs flowery words or flattery? Aren’t you getting a paycheck? We’re
still married, aren’t we?
Yet the absence of appreciation can leave a gaping hole in any
relationship—personal or professional. Sure, I want to know how to
improve, but I also want to know that you see how hard I’m working, how
much I’m trying, what I do that’s special. Without that, your coaching isn’t
going to get through, because I’m listening for something else.
In First Break All the Rules, authors Marcus Buckingham and Curt
Coffman describe a landmark Gallup survey of eighty thousand workers.
The survey found that “Yes” answers on twelve key questions—dubbed the
Q12—had strong correlations with employee satisfaction, high retention,
and high productivity. Of the twelve questions, three are directly related to
appreciation:
Question 4: “In the last seven days, have I received recognition or praise
for doing good work?”
Question 5: “Does my supervisor, or someone at work, seem to care
about me as a person?”
Question 6: “Is there someone at work who encourages my
development?”2
When workers answer “No” to these questions, it’s not necessarily
because supervisors don’t care or aren’t saying “Thanks.” But they’re not
doing so in a way that matters.
Three qualities are required for appreciation to count. First, it has to be
specific. This is tricky; most of us offer both appreciation and positive
evaluation in grand strokes like “Good work!” or “You were fabulous!” or
“Thanks for everything!”
In contrast to the vagueness of our appreciation, our negative feedback—
or “areas for improvement”—often consists of a list of 118 detailed items.
We focus on the negative because we are focused on an immediate problem:
Yes, you did a good job overall, but our task at this moment is to address
the latest supply chain snafu or the product placement. When we’re under
pressure to get things done, our feelings of anxiety, frustration, and anger
about what’s wrong trump any feelings of appreciation, even if, upon
reflection, we really are appreciative.
Over time, appreciation deficits set in. And these often become two-way:
I think you don’t appreciate all I do and all I put up with, and you think I
don’t appreciate whatever-it-is you do. Call it Mutual Appreciation Deficit
Disorder (MADD), and you have the ingredients for a troubled working
relationship.
Second, appreciation has to come in a form the receiver values and hears
clearly. Gary Chapman makes a similar point about love in his book The 5
Love Languages. Some of us take in love through words (“I love you”),
while others hear it more clearly through acts of service, quality time,
physical contact, or gifts. If I feel unloved, it could be because you don’t
love me—or it could be because you’re expressing it in a way that I don’t
take in.3
The same is true for appreciation. For some, a monthly paycheck is all
the “attaboy” they need. For others, public recognition is meaningful,
whether in the form of team e-mail, kudos at a meeting, or organizational
awards. For some it’s promotion and titles—even if they earn the same or
less pay. And for many of us, it’s the feeling we get from knowing we’re a
trusted adviser or indispensable player. I know you appreciate me because
we laugh a lot, or because you come to me first with tough challenges.
Third, meaningful appreciation has to be authentic. If employees start to
sense that everyone receives appreciation for the smallest accomplishments
—“thanks for coming to work today”—appreciation inflation sets in, and
the currency becomes worthless. Nor can appreciation be issued through
gritted teeth: “I can’t believe I inherited such a screwup, but I need to check
this appreciation box, so, uh, good work!” Nobody’s fooled, and now they
trust you even less.
COACHING SHORTFALLS
Some coaching relationships require extraordinary effort while others feel
almost magically uncomplicated. But in either case, when coaching works,
it can be deeply gratifying and impactful for both people.
Of course, coaching can also be stressful, confusing, and ineffective. In
some organizations, coaching is not formally rewarded—or “counted”—and
is thus rarely given. Even when encouraged, mentors need only a few
experiences where their efforts to help only make things worse, suck up
time, or are met with arguments or ingratitude before they decide it’s not
worth the trouble.
Even well-intended coaches and coachees can become frustrated. We’re
trying to coach or to be coached, but because our efforts are resisted,
unappreciated, or ineffective, we end up with a coaching shortfall.
Coaching shortfalls mean that learning, productivity, morale, and
relationships all suffer. And that’s particularly tragic when people on both
sides of the relationship are well meaning and trying hard.
BEWARE CROSS-TRANSACTIONS
One of the key challenges of feedback conversations is that wires often get
crossed. There are two ways this happens. First, I might want a different
type of feedback from the type you gave me—for example, I was looking
for appreciation, but you gave me evaluation. Second, you may have
intended to give me one kind of feedback, but I interpreted it incorrectly—
for example, you sought to give me coaching, but I heard it as evaluation.
Once crossed, these wires are tough to untangle.
Consider the feedback confusion at the law offices where April, Cody,
and Evelyn work. They all report to a partner named Donald, who has never
been particularly good at giving feedback. Encouraged by Human
Resources and the annual campaign around performance, they each make
an appointment to talk to Donald about getting more feedback.
Donald’s assistant, April, goes first. Donald is actually pleased that April
took the initiative to ask for feedback. He gives April a number of concrete
suggestions for how she could manage her time better, including getting her
workspace better organized and being more assertive about saying no. April
says thanks, leaves Donald’s office, and wonders what the heck just
happened.
April just wanted a bit of appreciation. She has been working for Donald
for eight years and has become good at anticipating his needs. Others say
she works tirelessly, but she often feels stressed and overwhelmed. Donald
never comments on a job well done, never says thanks. In fact, he hardly
seems to notice her at all. April is in serious need of a pat on the back and a
great big “I see all that you do for me.”
What she got instead was coaching—ideas on how she could improve.
The conversation hit her hard, leaving her feeling more invisible than
ever. She wonders if she should quit. The problem wasn’t that Donald’s
feedback was wrong or poorly delivered. His coaching was thoughtful and
actually quite useful. April’s distress results from the cross-transaction: She
wanted one thing and got another.
First-year lawyer Cody fared no better. He submitted a research memo to
Donald last Thursday and was hoping to get specific suggestions for how to
approach such assignments more efficiently in the future. He often feels
adrift and knows the research takes him more time than it should. He wants
coaching. Donald reads the memo carefully, smiles and reassures Cody:
“Based on this memo and the other work you’ve done, I’d say you’re right
on track for a first-year lawyer.” Cody gets evaluation. And like April, he’s
dismayed: “How is that going to help me figure out what I’m doing?” He
faces his next assignment feeling more lost than ever.
Evelyn is a senior associate wondering where she stands in the march
toward partnership. As she begins to describe what she’s looking for,
Donald jumps in: “Evelyn, I know I’m not good with a compliment, but I
can tell you that it means a lot to me when I see you staying late and here
on weekends. I notice that. I’m sorry if I haven’t always said so over the
years.”
Evelyn gets appreciation—the great big thanks that April craved. But, of
course, what Evelyn wanted was evaluation. She wants to know where she
ranks in relation to her peers as partnership looms. Evelyn appreciates the
appreciation, but she is now more anxious than ever. Her billable hours
have always been high, but the last two associates with high billable hours
failed to make partner because they weren’t bringing in new business.
Evelyn wonders whether Donald’s thank-you was code for “thank you and
goodbye”—an indirect way of saying things aren’t going to work out.
Evelyn is left reading the tea leaves of appreciation for any traces of the
evaluation she seeks.
Donald and his colleagues are 0 for 3 on good feedback conversations.
Put another way, they’re 3 for 3 on cross-transactions. In this farcical
round-robin, April wants appreciation but gets coaching, Cody wants
coaching but gets evaluation, and Evelyn wants evaluation but gets
appreciation. All the while Donald is so pleased with his newfound
feedback-giving abilities that he wonders whether he might be just the guy
to lead an in-house training for other partners on how to give feedback well.
A COMPLICATION: THERE IS ALWAYS EVALUATION IN COACHING
Back out on the ball field, Dad is doing his best to be clear with his twin
daughters. In his mind, his intention is straightforward: He’s coaching.
That’s how Annie hears it, but as we know, Elsie hears it as evaluation:
“You think I’m uncoordinated!” and “You think I’m not good enough!”
Elsie worries that in Dad’s eyes, she is not stacking up.
So, even though Dad is being thoughtful about his purposes, there’s still
a cross-transaction. Why does Elsie hear the coaching as evaluation? Any
number of reasons. Maybe she feels implicit comparisons to her sister, feels
insecure about her athletic prowess, or believes her dad isn’t always fair.
Perhaps she’s been looking forward to time with Dad all week, but had
something other than baseball in mind. Or it could just be that she didn’t
sleep well or didn’t eat breakfast.
In addition to whatever else is going on between Elsie and her dad,
there’s a structural component to their miscommunication as well: there’s
some amount of evaluation in all coaching. The coaching message “here’s
how to improve” also implicitly conveys the evaluative message that “so far
you aren’t doing it as well as you might.”
Dad is doing his best to avoid evaluation. He’s not saying, “I’m
appraising each of you. Annie, you’re coordinated. Elsie, you are not.” That
would be explicit evaluation (not to mention a strange thing for a father to
say). And yet, because there’s evaluation in all coaching, he can’t avoid it
completely. To Annie, it’s irrelevant; she’s hearing the coaching and
dismissing the evaluative piece. To Elsie, the evaluation is the loudest part
of the message and drowns out everything else.
Elsie’s reaction to her dad’s feedback reminds us that the giver has only
partial control over how the balance between coaching and evaluation is
received. I may intend my comment about keeping two hands on the
steering wheel as commonsense coaching, but you may hear it as
evaluation: You’re irresponsible.
On the receiving end, we constantly funnel the advice we’re given into
either evaluation or coaching slots. How you hear your girlfriend’s
suggestion to “call your mother” depends on your relationship with your
girlfriend (was she reminding or chiding?). And that employee down at
Motor Vehicles who tells you you’re in the wrong line? Was that comment
meant as coaching (this will save you time) or evaluation (you can’t even
follow the simplest instructions, you dolt)?
This dynamic is rampant in the workplace. Performance management
systems are set up to achieve a number of important organizational goals,
including both evaluation and coaching. We evaluate employees to ensure
that they receive fair promotion and pay, that they are clear about incentives
and standing, and that their work is done efficiently and well. We coach to
help people grow and improve, preparing them for greater success on that
next rung up.
All too often, feedback that is offered as coaching is heard as evaluation.
(“You’re telling me how to improve, but really, you’re saying you’re not
sure I’m cut out for this.”) And efforts to elicit coaching from mentors yield
feedback that is laced with evaluation, producing defensiveness and
frustration rather than learning.
WHAT HELPS?
Two things keep us on track: getting our purposes aligned, and separating
(as much as possible) evaluation from coaching and appreciation.
GET ALIGNED: KNOW THE PURPOSE AND DISCUSS IT
Cross-transactions happen when the giver and receiver are misaligned. The
fix? Discuss the purpose of the feedback explicitly. It seems obvious, but
even competent, well-meaning people can go their whole lives without ever
having this part of the conversation.
Most of this book is advice for feedback receivers. But here, we offer
thoughts to both giver and receiver. Ask yourself three questions:
(1) What’s my purpose in giving/receiving this feedback?
(2) Is it the right purpose from my point of view?
(3) Is it the right purpose from the other person’s point of view?
Is your primary goal coaching, evaluation, or appreciation? Are you trying
to improve, to assess, or to say thanks and be supportive? You won’t always
be able to fit the messiness of real life into these clean categories, but it’s
worth trying. Reflecting on your purpose before a conversation takes place
will help you to be clearer during the conversation itself. And even if you
can’t straighten out your purposes, there’s a benefit to understanding that
your purposes are a little confusing, even to you.
During the conversation, check in periodically: “I’m intending to give
you coaching. Is that how you’re hearing it? From your point of view, is
that what you need?” The receiver may respond that it would be nice to
know if she’s doing anything right—a signal that she’s craving some
appreciation and maybe a bit of positive evaluation.
Be explicit about what you think the conversation is about, and be
explicit about what would be most helpful to you. Then discuss and, if you
each need something different, negotiate. Remember: Explicit disagreement
is better than implicit misunderstanding. Explicit disagreement leads to
clarity, and is the first step in each of you getting your differing needs met.
The receiver may need to take the bull by the horns: “You’re offering
coaching, but it would help to get a quick evaluation: Am I doing all right
overall? If so, then I can relax and am eager for your coaching.” Or:
“You’re saying this is coaching, but I’m hearing it as evaluation, too. Am I
right that you’re saying I’m falling behind?”
This is what eventually helped Elsie and her dad. He stopped pitching
and asked, “Elsie, what’s up?” and Elsie burst into tears. Dad learned that
Elsie was actually yearning for appreciation. She had been practicing all
week and expected to wow her dad with her improved skills come Saturday
morning. But when the big moment failed to produce big hits, she was
crushed. She needed Dad’s comforting acknowledgment of her hard work
and disappointment more than she needed his batting tips.
SEPARATE EVALUATION FROM COACHING AND APPRECIATION
The bugle blast of evaluation can drown out the quieter melodies of
coaching and appreciation.
Even if I walk into my performance review determined to learn how to
improve, evaluation can get in the way. If I was expecting an “exceeds
expectations” and receive only a “meets expectations,” then whatever
coaching I receive is likely to go unheard. That’s true even if the coaching
is designed to help me get what I want—an “exceeds” next year. Instead of
hearing the coaching, I’m focused on the thoughts and emotions broadcast
by my internal voice: What about all the times I bailed you out with
headquarters? What’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with me? And what
will this mean for my compensation?
If your organization has formal feedback conversations at yearly or
semiyearly intervals (where, for example, supervisor and supervisee
develop objectives or a learning plan for the coming year, with specific
skills and outcomes targeted), the evaluation conversation and the coaching
conversation should be separated by at least days, and probably longer.
The evaluation conversation needs to take place first. When a professor
hands back a graded paper, the student will first turn to the last page to
check their grade. Only then can they take in the instructors margin notes.
We can’t focus on how to improve until we know where we stand.
Ideally, we receive coaching and appreciation year-round, day by day,
project by project. It’s like when we’re driving. If someone ahead of us
doesn’t go when the light turns green, we don’t think to ourselves, I’m
going to collect all the ideas I have for that driver and give them feedback
at the end of the year. We honk now. Now is when that driver needs to
move, now is when they need the “coaching.”
• • •
Understanding whether we are getting appreciation, coaching, or evaluation
is a first step. But even when our purposes are all lined up, feedback can be
hard to understand, and is all too easily dismissed. That’s the topic of the
next chapter.
Summary: SOME KEY IDEAS
“Feedback” is really three different things, with different purposes:
Appreciation — motivates and encourages.
Coaching — helps increase knowledge, skill, capability, growth, or raises
feelings in the relationship.
Evaluation — tells you where you stand, aligns expectations, and informs
decision making.
We need all three, but often talk at cross-purposes.
Evaluation is the loudest and can drown out the other two. (And all coaching includes a bit
of evaluation.)
Be thoughtful about what you need and what you’re being offered, and get aligned.
3
FIRST UNDERSTAND
Shift from “That’s Wrong” to “Tell Me More”
Irwin, a supervising attorney in the public defenders office, tells his recent
hire Holly that she gets “too enmeshed” in the personal lives of clients, and
doesn’t maintain appropriate professional distance. “You’re not their
mother,” Irwin warns. Holly leans in: “Look, Irwin, I grew up on these
streets. I know what it means to have someone in your corner really fighting
for you.” “Still,” says Irwin, “you need to establish boundaries.”
Holly says she’ll keep that in mind. But she won’t. It’s hard enough to
take feedback that’s right; Holly’s not going to waste time on feedback
that’s wrong.
In this, Holly is like the rest of us. We don’t want to take feedback that’s
invalid or unhelpful and so, quite reasonably, we screen for that. We listen
to the feedback with this question in mind: “What’s wrong with this
feedback?” And as it turns out, we can almost always find something.
WE’RE GOOD AT WRONG SPOTTING
If you’ve ever received feedback at work—or had an in-law—you are
familiar with the many shapes and sizes of wrong:
It’s 2 + 2 = 5 wrong: It is literally incorrect. I could not have been
rude at that meeting because I was not at that meeting. And my name
is not Mike.
It’s different-planet wrong: Somewhere in the universe there may exist
a carbon-based life form that would have taken offense at my e-mail,
but here on Earth everyone knows it was a joke.
It used to be right: Your critique of my marketing plan is based on
how marketing worked when you were coming up. Before the
Internet. And electricity.
It’s right according to the wrong people: Some see me that way, but
next time, talk to at least one person who is not on my Personal
Enemies List.
Your context is wrong: I do yell at my assistant. And he yells at me.
That’s how our relationship works—key word being “works.”
It’s right for you, but wrong for me: We have different body types.
Armani suits flatter you. Hoodies flatter me.
The feedback is right, but not right now: It’s true that I could lose a
few pounds—which I will do as soon as the quintuplets are out of the
house.
Anyway, it’s unhelpful: Telling me to be a better mentor isn’t helping
me to be a better mentor. What kind of mentor are you anyway?
Why is wrong spotting so easy? Because there’s almost always something
wrong—something the feedback giver is overlooking, shortchanging, or
misunderstanding. About you, about the situation, about the constraints
you’re under. And givers compound the problem by delivering feedback
that is vague, making it easy for us to overlook, shortchange, and
misunderstand what they are saying.
But in the end, wrong spotting not only defeats wrong feedback, it
defeats learning.
UNDERSTANDING IS JOB ONE
Before we determine whether feedback is right or wrong, we first have to
understand it. That sounds pretty obvious, but in fact, we usually skip
understanding and dive in with instant judgments.
“I don’t skip that,” you might think. “I understand what the feedback
means because they just told me what it means. They were giving me
feedback, and I was listening.” A good start, but it’s not enough.
FEEDBACK ARRIVES WITH GENERIC LABELS
Feedback often arrives packaged like generic items in the supermarket
labeled “soup” or “cola.” The labels the giver uses seem clear—“Be more
proactive,” “Don’t be so selfish,” “Act your age”—but there’s actually little
content to them. You would never eat the soup can label, and there’s no
nutritional value to a feedback label either.
Recall Irwin’s advice to Holly: “You’re too enmeshed,” “Maintain
appropriate professional distance,” “You need boundaries.” These are all
labels (even “You’re not their mother”). If Holly followed Irwin’s advice,
what exactly would she need to do differently?
Holly thinks the meaning is clear: Put in fewer hours on each case; get
less upset when you lose; don’t look the defendant in the eye and say you
believe in him; don’t share your own story of struggle and redemption. In
short, care less. Holly isn’t interested in caring less, and she doesn’t buy the
feedback.
These are all reasonable interpretations of Irwin’s labels. He could have
meant these things. But he didn’t. In fact, Irwin thinks making a strong
personal connection with defendants is crucial, and letting them know
you’re on their side even more important. He didn’t mean to set limits on
caring or effort or trust.
What did he mean? Irwin explains: “In this business, we have to be
explicit about boundaries. I’ve overheard defendants asking Holly for ten or
twenty bucks, and I’ve watched her give it to them. Look, if they need ten
dollars, they probably need a lot more than ten dollars. Connect them with
institutional resources to get them squared away. There was a client when I
was starting out who I was very personally attached to, and I equated that
with never saying no to him. Pretty soon, he started taking advantage of me.
And worse, he stopped trusting my professional advice because he saw me
as just another chump he could hustle.”
Would Holly agree with Irwin’s feedback if she understood it? Maybe.
Or maybe not. But at least she’d be in a better position to decide.
Labels do serve some useful functions in feedback. Like the soup label,
they give us a general idea of the topic, and they can act as shorthand when
we return to that topic later. But the label is not the meal.
GIVER AND RECEIVER INTERPRET THE LABEL DIFFERENTLY
Labels always mean something specific to the giver. Think of what bugs
you about someone close to you—your brother, boss, friend, or coworker.
What probably popped into your head is a label:
“He’s so _____ .”
“She’s too _____ .”
“My spouse never _____s.”
“My coworker is so un-_____ .”
In our minds, we have a high-definition movie that captures all that we
mean by those labels—the bad behavior, the angry tone, the irritating habits
that we endure. When we use a label, we’re seeing that movie, and it’s
painfully clear. It’s easy to forget that when we convey the label to someone
else, the movie is not attached. All they’re hearing is a few vague words.
This means that even when we “take” the feedback, it’s easy to misconstrue
the meaning.
Nicholas is told by his boss, Adrianna, to be “more assertive” on the
sales floor. Adrianna rose to manager in part because of her legendary
selling skills, and Nicholas is eager to follow her advice. Later in the day,
Adrianna overhears him pushing a customer to agree to the terms of the
deal “right now, today—before you walk out that door.”
Adrianna is shocked and demands to know why Nicholas was
threatening a customer. Confused, he explains that he was being “more
assertive,” just as she had suggested. Heavens.
Adrianna’s original advice was based on watching Nicholas on the sales
floor relate to customers during a potential sale. She worried that his laid-
back, low-energy persona communicated a lack of interest in both the
customer and the product. By “be more assertive” Adrianna meant
something along these lines: Be energetic. Show some excitement, let your
personality shine through. Knock them out with how engaged and caring
you are. Almost the opposite of how Nicholas understood it.
This “what was heard” versus “what was meant” coaching mismatch is
surprisingly common:
Evaluations can be just as confusing:
Given how often we talk in labels, it’s somewhat astonishing that any
feedback changes hands successfully.
Play “Spot the Label”
In the course of your life, you’ll encounter people who are unusually skilled
at giving you feedback. They’ll say things like, “Let me describe what I
mean and you can ask me questions to see if I’m making sense.” But most
givers aren’t this skilled, and so it falls to you as receiver to work to
understand what’s under the label. The surest way of doing that is to spot
the label in the first place.
Actually, once you’re looking for them, spotting labels is easy; what’s
hard is remembering to look. It’s like counting the number of times
someone says the word “and.” It’s impossible to do if you aren’t
consciously trying to, but once you decide to listen for it, it’s simple. Same
with labels: if you’re listening for them, you’ll hear them everywhere.
After you spot a label, there’s a second step: You have to fight the
temptation to fill in your own meaning. If you already “know” what was
meant, there’s nothing to learn and no reason to be curious. “‘Be more
affectionate’? Excellent, she wants me to initiate sex more often.” But does
the label “be more affectionate” actually mean “initiate sex more often”?
Here are some other choices:
(a) hold hands in public;
(b) pitch in more around the house;
(c) be more playful and cuddly;
(d) tell me you love me at least once a decade.
The correct answer? You won’t know until you talk about it, and you won’t
talk about it if you assume you already know.
WHAT’S UNDER THE LABEL?
The most common advice about feedback is this: Be specific. It’s good
advice—but it’s not specific enough. What does it mean to be specific, and
specific about what?
To answer that question, we start with an observation: If we strip back
the label, we find that feedback has both a past and a future. There’s a
looking-back component (“here’s what I noticed”), and a looking-forward
component (“here’s what you need to do”). The usual feedback labels don’t
tell us much in either direction.
So to clarify the feedback under the label we need to “be specific” about
two things:
(1) where the feedback is coming from, and
(2) where the feedback is going.
Coming From and Going To
Let’s take an example. You say I’m a reckless driver. That’s the label.
Where is it coming from? A specific time we drove together, the fact that I
call you from my cell when I’m driving, or your fears about that fender
bender I had last year? I’ll be able to more easily decipher the feedback if I
know the answer.
And where is the feedback going? What’s the advice? Do you want me to
stop tailgating or wear my glasses at night or drive more slowly on
neighborhood streets or get more sleep the night before a long trip?
Below, we look in more depth at how to discuss and understand both
where the feedback is coming from and where it’s going. On the “coming
from” side, we’ll examine a key distinction: the difference between the
givers “data” (what they observe) and their interpretation (the meaning
they make from what they observe). And on the “going to” side, we’ll
consider the difference between feedback that is coaching, which aims at
advice, and feedback that is evaluation, which clarifies consequences.
These distinctions are captured in this diagram,1 which will make more
sense once you’ve read through the next few pages.
Digging into where the feedback is coming from and going to takes a bit of
practice, but once you do it a few times in real life, it becomes second
nature.
ASK WHERE THE FEEDBACK IS COMING FROM
Feedback givers arrive at their labels in two steps: (1) they observe data,
and (2) they interpret that data—they tell a story about what it means.
They Observe Data
The feedback you get is rooted in the observations of your giver—whatever
they’ve seen, felt, heard, smelled, touched, tasted, remembered, or read that
is relevant. In the academic literature this is called their “data,” although
data in this context goes beyond mere facts and figures. Data can include
anything directly observed: someone’s behavior, statements, tone, clothes,
work product, year-to-date revenue, socks on the floor, rumors around the
office. Here are examples of data that might eventually find their way into
feedback.
Your boss hears you tell a coworker that you’re too busy to help.
Your tennis partner notices that you are no longer able to remember
the score.
Your report did not distinguish between online and brick-and-mortar
sales.
You were quiet at dinner, until you barked at the kids.
Data can also include the givers emotional reactions. “When you didn’t
e-mail me back, I was frustrated.” “I’m anxious about what’s getting
dropped when you take half days off.” “When you’re driving and you get so
close to the car in front of us, I am cold-sweat terrified.”
They Interpret the Data
People don’t typically offer their raw observations as feedback. They first
“interpret” or filter what they see based on their own past experiences,
values, assumptions, and implicit rules about the world. So instead of
saying, “I heard you tell Gus that you’re too busy to help,” your boss says,
“You’re not a team player.”
Adrianna has data about Nicholas—his sales pitch, his responses to
customer questions, his tone of voice, his body language. She has lots of
non-Nicholas data as well. She’s seen dozens of salespeople interacting
with customers, and has a whole warehouse of data about her own
experiences with selling over the years.
Without being aware of it, Adrianna interprets what she sees and turns
her direct data into judgments: Nicholas is too laid back. He shows no
apparent interest in his customers—essential for engaging their interest—
and he’s losing sales that he could close.
These are all interpretations of the data. You can’t observe “too laid
back”; laid back is itself a judgment about observed behaviors, and too laid
back is a judgment about the optimal level of laid back. And Adrianna
might observe him failing to make sales, but whether he could close them if
he behaved differently is a guess. It involves assumptions about the
consequences of his approach and a prediction about the future if he were to
change. But until the future arrives, it’s conjecture—it’s Adrianna’s
interpretation of what she sees.
It is said that all advice is autobiographical, and this, in part, is what is
meant. We interpret what we see based on our own life experiences,
assumptions, preferences, priorities, and implicit rules about how things
work and how one should be. I understand your life through the lens of my
life; my advice for you is based on me.
They Confuse Data and Interpretation (We All Do)
You might be thinking, Conversations would be much easier if the giver
just shared the data. Givers shouldn’t say, “Your report was confusing and
lacked depth.” They should share the data: “I noticed that you didn’t
distinguish between online and brick-and-mortar sales. Let’s discuss
that. . . .”
It would be nice if they did, but usually they don’t—not because they’re
trying to be cagey or unclear. The process of moving from data to
interpretation happens in the blink of an eye and is largely unconscious.
Artificial intelligence expert Roger Schank has an observation about this:
He notes that while computers are organized around managing and
accessing data, human intelligence is organized around stories.2 We take in
selective data and make immediate interpretations, resulting in instant
judgment-laced labels: That meeting was a waste of time. Your skirt’s too
short. Those people at the next table can’t parent properly.
If we were asked what we had witnessed, we’d say: “I saw people
parenting badly.” We think that’s the actual data because that’s how we’ve
stored it in memory. But the actual data was the particular way the woman
looked at the baby or the way the man did (or didn’t) respond when the
baby wailed. Bad parenting is not the data; it’s our auto-story about the
encounter.
Now that you’re getting the hang of this, notice that a couple of pages
ago we cited as data the fact that you “barked” at the kids. In fact, “barking”
is itself an interpretation of what you did. Someone else might say you were
curt, sharp, or perhaps even clear. It’s easy to confuse our interpretation
(barking) for the data (what was actually heard).
So feedback givers rarely share the raw observations behind their labels
because they simply aren’t aware of them. It’s up to you to help them sort it
out. Your goal here is not to ignore or dismiss the interpretation. Data is
crucial, but so is the interpretation. At the very least, it’s one person’s view
of things. So you want to get a clear picture of both data and interpretation.
When Nicholas is told by Adrianna that he needs to be more assertive, he
can break it down this way in his mind: “‘More assertive’ is a label. I don’t
know where it’s going or where it comes from. In terms of where it comes
from, I want to understand the data it’s based on—what Adrianna saw or
heard—and how Adrianna is interpreting that information.”
When Nicholas asks for the data, it will take some back and forth.
Adrianna might respond by saying, “What I saw on the sales floor is that
you were too laid back.” That’s moving in the right direction, but as we said
above, “laid back” is not data, it’s an interpretation. Nicholas needs to
understand the observations behind that interpretation in order to
understand precisely what “laid back” looks and sounds like to Adrianna.
This will take some discussion: “It’s my tone? What about my tone? My
body language? Show me. . . .”
ASK WHERE THE FEEDBACK IS GOING
So far, we’ve been talking about your feedback’s sordid past. Now we turn
to the feedback’s future.
Not all feedback has a forward-looking component. You notice that your
tennis partner has trouble remembering the score. If you share that
observation with their spouse, you may not have any advice that goes along
with that. You might—“here are three behavioral changes to watch for that
may signal dementia”—but it also could be that your purpose is achieved
just by sharing the observation with the spouse.
Often, though, feedback will have a forward-looking component. As
we’ll see below, with coaching, that piece is about advice; with evaluation,
it’s about consequences and expectations.
When Receiving Coaching: Clarify Advice
In any given case, you might or might not choose to follow someone’s
advice. But we can test whether advice is clear by asking this: If you do
want to follow the advice, would you know how to do so?
Too often the answer is no, because the advice is simply too vague. “If
you win a Tony award, be sure your speech sparkles.” “Children need love,
but they also need predictability and limits.” “If you want to shine at work,
make yourself indispensable.”
There are two problems with these: (1) We don’t know what they
actually mean, and (2) even if we did, we wouldn’t know what to do to
follow the advice. What does “sparkles” mean, and how would our speech
acquire this magical glow?
So on the receiving end we have to help the giver be clearer. “Sparkles?
Describe what you mean. Show me some examples of speeches that
sparkle. And show me some examples of speeches you think fell flat.” The
contrast is often illuminating and together you’ll home in on what makes an
acceptance speech effective.
Here’s another illustration. Tom is swamped at work, and his friend Liz
suggests he “needs to learn to say no.” This advice as given is both
unhelpful and annoying. All Tom has learned so far is that Liz doesn’t
understand how things work where he works.
But before dismissing the advice, Tom should get curious about what
“saying no” looks and sounds like to Liz. He asks her how he would
implement the advice if he decides to take it. This prompts Liz to describe
her own struggles to say no: “Here’s what I found helpful. I sat down with
my team and shared the dilemma. I explained that I didn’t want to turn
away work, but was coming to realize that I’d become a bottleneck, and
couldn’t do the kind of job I want to on each task.” Sharing the dilemma let
her coworkers in on the challenge, which was beneficial in its own right,
but also gave her team the chance to find creative solutions that she might
not have come up with on her own.
Liz also tells Tom about a new policy she has adopted: “I don’t say yes
or no to a request in the moment. Instead, I ask some sorting questions.”
The questions she finds most helpful are these: “Is this more or less urgent
than what you needed yesterday?” and “Are there pieces of this that are
more important than other pieces, and why?” She then tells the requester: “I
want to take a careful look at what’s on my plate before I get back to you.”
This helps her override her impulse to say yes automatically, and helps
make the workload and priorities a shared problem.
When you discuss advice in this kind of detail you can start to visualize
it, and once it’s visualized, you can see why something that seemed useless
when presented as a “say no” label just might be useful after all.
When Receiving Evaluation: Clarify Consequences and Expectations
It’s not easy to clarify advice, and it can be even tougher to clarify the
consequences and expectations that follow from an evaluation. Why?
Because we’re still vibrating from the impact of the evaluation itself.
Whether we are delighted or devastated, we’re not in a curious state of
mind.
Yet it’s particularly important to understand the forward-looking part of
feedback when it’s evaluation. What does this mean for me? What will
happen next, what is expected of me? Given where I stand, what should I do
now?
Here’s what typically happens:
The evaluation: After a series of tests, Max is told that his ability
to hear certain higher frequencies has diminished by about 80 percent.
What Max says: Really? I’m surprised by that.
What Max later wishes he had asked: What caused the loss, and
what can I do to prevent further loss? What exactly are “higher
frequencies”? How do they matter in hearing? What does “diminished
by about 80 percent” mean? How is my hearing compared with that of
other people my age? Does the context matter for what I’ll be able to
hear? Will this get worse, and if so, how fast?
The evaluation: Margie is not tapped as the new department head.
What Margie says: That’s disappointing. Who got it?
What Margie later wishes she had asked: Can you say more
about what you felt I was missing as you looked at my fit for the job?
What concerns did people have? Do you have suggestions for how I
might fill in some gaps in my experience or skill set? How will this
decision affect my project mix? How about my compensation, now and
in the coming year?
The evaluation: The holidays come and go, and your live-in
girlfriend of three years still refuses to marry you.
What you say: [Nothing].
What you wish you had asked (and maybe still can): What are
you assuming about the future? Are you unsure about marriage, or
about me? Are there things about our relationship that we should talk
about? Do you think you’ll be ready tomorrow? Next year? Never?
What do you need in order to be ready? How about a breakup? Is a
breakup good for you?
You already have the skills for asking forward-looking questions; the trick
is using them. It’s like pulling the rip cord on your parachute. It’s not hard
to do; the key is remembering to do it when it matters. Toward this end, it’s
useful to have a short list of good questions in your back pocket before you
walk into any evaluation conversation.
And, unlike forgetting to pull the rip cord, if you don’t ask the questions
that matter, you can usually come back to have a follow-up conversation
later.
SHIFT FROM WRONG SPOTTING TO DIFFERENCE SPOTTING
So far, we’ve been talking about what’s under the feedback givers labels,
and how the receiver can ask good questions to figure out where the
feedback comes from and where it’s going. The feedback giver has ideas in
their head and we’ve been talking about how to get those ideas from that
person’s head into your head.
But we’ve been leaving something out. You aren’t trying to get the
givers ideas into your empty head, you’re trying to get the givers ideas
into your full head. You have your own views and opinions regarding this
feedback, your own data and interpretations, your own life experiences,
assumptions, and values. All the sorts of things that form the givers
feedback in the first place are also going on in your head.
This, in fact, is a big reason we wrong spot: We know that the feedback
is wrong or off target because we have our own experiences and views, and
our views are not the same as theirs. Therefore, theirs are wrong. The only
other choice would seem to be that their views are right and ours are wrong,
but that seems even less likely.
There’s another way to think about it. As receivers, we shouldn’t use our
views to dismiss the givers views, but neither should we discard our own.
Working to first understand their views doesn’t mean we pretend we don’t
have life experiences or opinions. Instead, we need to understand their
views even as we’re aware of our own. And that’s almost impossible to do
unless we make a key shift—away from that’s wrong and toward tell me
more: Let’s figure out why we see this differently.
If the reason we see a particular piece of feedback differently isn’t
simply that one of us is wrong, then what is the reason? There are two: We
have different data, and we interpret that data differently. Above, we
explored their data and interpretations in order to understand the feedback.
Below, we’re putting their point of view next to ours and exploring each of
our data and interpretations in order to understand why there is sometimes a
gap between how they see things and how we see them.
DIFFERENT DATA
We each observe different data because we’re different people. We have
different roles, live in different places, inhabit different bodies. We have
different educations and training, different sensitivities, and care about
different things.
Sometimes different data is a matter of access: Your boss knows what
your peers are paid but you don’t; workers in the Cairo office know the
local culture in a way that headquarters in London can’t; when lovers peer
into each others eyes, they each see a person the other cannot.
Where you sit in an organization affects what you see. The CEO and the
receptionist have different data because of how and where they spend their
time, whom they talk to, and what they are responsible for. The CEO knows
what’s causing conflicts with the board, frustrating key customers, and
worrying market analysts. The receptionist observes every single person
who comes into the building—board members, vendors, new hires, janitors,
and journalists—and overhears what they talk about in the waiting area.
The receptionist hears the gossip and complaints, and what people do and
don’t like about the CEO’s approach to handling conflicts with the board,
key customers, and market analysts.
Even when we have access to the same data, we tend to notice different
things. We are all moving along the same sidewalk, but the historian may
notice the brickwork, the jogger the impact on her knees, and the fellow in
the wheelchair the areas that are less accessible.
We’re engulfed by information—far too much to take in—and so we
select small samples to pay attention to and ignore the rest. Right now, as
you’re reading this book, pause and notice something you didn’t before.
Maybe there’s background noise, a breeze, or the “fashion sense” of the
person across the way. Until a moment ago you were filtering all that out,
and you probably didn’t realize you were doing so. We don’t notice what
we don’t notice, so we don’t notice that we don’t notice.
Having access to or taking in different data helps explain the trouble
Mavis is having. She’s an attorney on a cross-functional product team that
includes sales, production, and legal, as well as an account manager. Each
team serves a client from start to finish, pitch to performance.
At her annual review Mavis receives blunt feedback from Davis, the
account manager: “You don’t understand the ‘business side’ of the business.
Your laborious legal reviews slow the sales process and we lose out to
fleeter competition.”
Mavis is frustrated by this. These salespeople—and Davis—are just
wrong. As a lawyer, Mavis is aware of certain things that other team
members are not. She knows what the legal issues are, but more than that,
she knows exactly how many deals get litigated and what the settlements
cost the firm in dollars and reputation. And front of mind is her mandate
from the general counsel: “Regulators are cracking down; we must execute
with impeccable integrity. Our sales folks are top-notch, but it’s Legal’s job
to rein them in.” Mavis assumes, unconsciously, that Davis and others see
what she sees. But they don’t. In some cases, they have access to the
information but no interest. In most cases, they don’t even have access:
They aren’t in the legal department meetings with the general counsel and
don’t get the litigation reports.
In contrast, here is what Davis sees. He talks with customers about what
they need and why. He sees the weekly sales reports, including stats on the
pitch-to-close ratio. He hears what other firms are promising customers, and
has learned that often, the terms Mavis rejects on legal grounds are
approved at other firms. Davis also knows the shifting sales landscape.
These days it’s all about price point and efficiency: Beat the market or lose
the deal. No deal, no firm, no Davis, no Mavis. No joke.
Mavis won’t make progress in deciphering the feedback until she asks
this: “Why do we see this differently? What data do you have that I don’t?”
Davis and Mavis each have pieces of the puzzle the other doesn’t and they
can’t put the puzzle together until all the pieces are laid out on the table.
Life would be a lot easier if we routinely asked that question about
different data. But we don’t. Why? Because wrong spotting is so much
more compelling than difference spotting. Being aware of what they see that
we don’t is just not as delicious as listening for how they’re wrong. And
once we spot an error, we can’t contain ourselves; we have to jump in and
set things straight. But we have to fight that instinct. We have to
consciously and persistently choose to ask about their data and share our
own.
Biases Drive Data Collection
There’s another factor that makes difference spotting tough. What we do
and don’t notice isn’t random. If your giver likes you and thinks you’re
terrifically competent, they’re going to notice all the fantastic things you do.
They’ll go out of their way to find them. Your radiance also influences how
they interpret what they see. That mistake you made is simply the exception
that proves just how competent you usually are, and maybe it wasn’t really
a mistake at all.
But if friction develops in the relationship—when the infatuation of new
love fades, the stakes rise, or humidity sets in—biases shift. Now your giver
begins to focus on the things you messed up while ignoring those you got
right. Your “willingness to take risks” is now seen as “risky,” your “firm
hand on the tiller” is now regarded as an unwillingness to let go. Others
seek data that confirm their preexisting view of us, whether that view is
good or bad. It’s human nature.3
Meanwhile, we have biases of our own. All things being equal, we’ll find
a sympathetic story that explains and justifies our own behavior. We
remember what we got right, and as we’ll explore in the next chapter, we
ascribe generally good intentions to ourselves. Ninety-three percent of
American motorists believe they are better-than-average drivers. In a 2007
BusinessWeek poll, 90 percent of the managers surveyed believed their
performance in the workplace to be in the top 10 percent.4
These biases can make difference spotting tougher still since we each
feel it’s the other who is biased. In fact, we’re both biased, and we each
need the other in order to see the whole picture more clearly.
DIFFERENCES IN INTERPRETATION
The second reason why feedback that makes sense to the giver might not
make sense to you is this: Even when you are both looking at the same data,
each of you can interpret them differently.
Janie complains to Ripley that he’s not doing his part to keep the house
clean. After listening attentively, Ripley assures Janie that he will change.
And in his mind he does. But Janie continues to feel the house is a disaster.
The situation is incredibly stressful to her, and she doesn’t understand why
Ripley says he’s helping when he’s clearly not. And Ripley doesn’t
understand why Janie continues to complain now that the problem has been
addressed.
Ripley and Janie have access to the same data but interpret them
differently. When Janie looks around the house, she sees clutter and chaos,
and despairs that her life is out of control. She feels stretched too thin
between work and home and is ashamed when she imagines what her
mother would say if she saw how they live. Ripley looks at the same clutter
and sees a rich family life bursting with the energy and joy of kids being
kids. For him, that chaos is comforting.
Janie and Ripley assume they understand each other because they are
each plainly looking at the same chaotic/comforting house. But here it’s the
interpretation that matters. Ripley won’t understand Janie’s feedback until
he sees the meaning of the mess from her point of view.
Differences in how we interpret what we see are so fundamental to
understanding the feedback we get that it’s worth taking a closer look at a
couple of key factors that are often embedded in our interpretations.
Implicit Rules
One of the primary reasons we interpret data differently is that we have
different rules in our heads about how things should be. But we don’t think
of them as our rules. We think of them as the rules.
Everyone at your old job loved you. Everyone at your new job doesn’t.
They say you’re difficult, but you know you haven’t changed, and the
people you work with seem normal enough. What’s different? The implicit
rules that govern interaction. At your old job, being direct was appreciated:
Knock heads, sort things out. At the new place, you’re supposed to be
“nice.” You’re not a big fan of nice; in your experience, nice equals
indirect, which equals passive-aggressive, which equals frustrating and
inefficient. Which makes you difficult. Now that you understand the
implicit rules, you at least understand why you are seen the way you are.
Organizational culture, regional culture, and even family culture are all
collections of implicit rules for “how we do things around here.” But
everyone has their own individual set as well. Implicit rules can be about
specific matters—like whether being “on time” means seated and ready to
go or just wandering in. And implicit rules can be about more general issues
—like the way life “is” or what it means to be a friend. Such rules often
come in contrasting pairs:
“It’s a dog-eat-dog world” versus “Smile and the world smiles with
you.”
“Conflict is bad” versus “Conflict is healthy.”
“It’s important to be liked” versus “It’s important to be respected.”
Feedback that isn’t making sense can suddenly fall into place when we
understand the implicit rule underlying the interpretations. I assumed that
asking questions at the company meeting showed engagement; I learn that
it’s read as rude and contrarian.
Heroes and Villains
One principle for how we organize our experiences is this: We are (usually)
the sympathetic hero of the story. In his speech to a graduating class at
Kenyon, writer David Foster Wallace observed that there is “no experience
you’ve had that you were not at the absolute center of.” We are each “lords
of our own tiny skull-sized kingdoms.” 5 In our story we are Dorothy, the
Princess, or Rudolph, not the Wicked Witch, the Pea, or any of the other
reindeer.
This complicates feedback.
A son visits his father who is recovering from surgery. Upon arrival he is
horrified to find his father in enormous pain, and the surgeon refusing to
authorize more medication to alleviate it. He marches down the corridor to
report the surgeon’s heartless treatment to the department head. The
surgeon follows, rolling her eyes at her department head to communicate
her assessment: Another difficult family member wasting valuable time
better used to treat patients.
Part of the challenge here is data: Surgeon and son each see the fathers
suffering in light of information the other doesn’t have. The son knows his
father—war hero, football star, stoic. If he’s writhing in pain, that pain must
be intolerable. The surgeon knows the effects of this surgery and the length
of recovery from it—the intense postoperative pain quickly dissipates.
She’s also seen patients become addicted to pain medication, and has
witnessed the toll it takes on them and their families.
What further complicates the situation is that both surgeon and son see
themselves as the hero in the story. Each believes they are protecting the
father from suffering and each sees the other as misguided at best—and in
the heat of the moment, even as something of a villain. Now we’ve got two
heroes fighting over who is wearing the white hat. The feedback they have
for each other isn’t just about medication. It’s a morality play.
ASK: WHAT’S RIGHT?
Difference spotting—understanding as specifically as you can exactly why
you and they see things differently—is a crucial lens through which to take
in feedback. You begin to better understand where the feedback comes
from, what the advice is, how to implement it, and why you and the
feedback giver see certain things differently.
At this point in the process, it can also be useful to make a list of the
ways their feedback might be “right.” We need to be careful here, because
right spotting can inadvertently lead to wrong spotting. If you’re looking for
what’s right, you can fall back into the right-wrong frame and, at least as
often, you’ll find what’s wrong.
So we’re not using the word “right” to mean some final determination
about objective truth. We mean it more as a mindset: What makes sense
about what they’re saying, what seems worth trying, how you can shift
around the meaning in some way that gives them the benefit of the doubt in
terms of how the feedback might be helpful. It’s like walking through a
forest and identifying birds instead of trees. Noticing the birds doesn’t make
the trees “wrong.”
Let’s come back to Mavis and Davis. Mavis can ask why she and Davis
see things differently, but she also might ask what’s right about Davis’s
feedback. What’s right is that speed matters. What’s right is that members
of the sales team are frustrated. What’s right is that some competitors are
(apparently) making different legal judgments about terms. What’s right is
that closing deals matters to Mavis, to Davis, and to the firm. Looking for
what’s right about the feedback is a place where the conversation between
them has traction to explore joint solutions, and one where Davis’s
feedback isn’t so easily dismissed.
WHEN YOU STILL DISAGREE
Sometimes you will get to the point of fully understanding where a givers
feedback comes from and what it is they’re suggesting, and you will simply
disagree with it. In fact, now that you really do understand it, their feedback
might seem even further off target or more unfair than before.
That might be a frustrating and difficult place for the two of you to be,
but from a communication standpoint, you’ve succeeded. Your goal is to
understand the feedback giver, and for them to understand you. If you end
up thinking the feedback is helpful, then you’ll take it. If you don’t, at least
you’ll understand where the feedback comes from, what they were
suggesting, and why you’re rejecting it. The same is true of evaluation. The
better you understand the origins and consequences of the evaluation, the
better able you are to explain why you disagree with it.
Being transparent and honest about your reactions is not inconsistent
with being open and curious, by the way. You can say what’s going on in
your head:
Wow. That’s upsetting to hear.
I never would have imagined that.
That is so far from how I see myself—or hope to be seen—that I’m
almost speechless. I want to explain why, but I also want to make sure
that I really understand what you’re saying.
You’re not cutting off the conversation with comments like this, but sharing
your reactions and continuing to try to understand. Having said this, we
should admit that we have a theory here: We figure that the better you
understand the feedback, the more likely you are to find something in it that
is useful, or at the very least to understand the ways in which you are being
misunderstood, and why.
“WHY CAN’T FEEDBACK JUST BE OBJECTIVE?”
It’s reasonable to wonder: If subjectivity and interpretation make feedback
so hard, why not just be objective and stick with the facts? Many
organizations are trying to do just that by developing competency models
and behavioral guides and using formulas and metrics for measuring
performance. These can be helpful to align expectations and clarify criteria.
But they don’t take the subjectivity out of feedback. Nothing does.
Whatever metric you come up with, there will always be subjective
judgments behind that metric: Why is x most important, and why isn’t y
included? There are subjective judgments driving how that metric is
applied: You “meet expectations” based on what I expect. Are those
expectations fair? Yes? No? How do we know? Eventually we arrive at
someone’s judgment.
What about bottom-line profits—aren’t those objective? In one sense,
yes. The number is a number and it’s independent of anyone’s subjective
hopes or beliefs about it. But what does that number mean? Is half a percent
above the market average good or bad? Is double the expected profits good,
or were the expected profits totally off to begin with? And what’s the
relationship between the CEO’s performance and the profits? We can argue
about that, can’t we?
No matter how clearly you define the criteria and the metrics, somebody
has to apply the criteria to a person’s performance, and that involves
making judgments. If advice is autobiographical, so is evaluation. The
evaluation we give people is a reflection of our own (or our organization’s)
preferences, assumptions, values, and goals. They might be broadly shared
or idiosyncratic, but either way, they are ours.
And that’s as it should be. People who are skilled coaches or evaluators
are valuable precisely because their gifts of judgment are strong. An iPhone
app can tell a singer if she’s hitting each note precisely; she hires a voice
coach for his judgment, his experienced point of view. He can help her sing
in a way that moves people. An app can’t tell you whether you are leading
effectively, creating cohesion, persistence, or energy. The people you lead
can.
The goal shouldn’t be to remove interpretation or judgment. It should be
to make judgments thoughtfully, and once made, to have them be
transparent and discussable.
A CONVERSATION WITH COMMENTARY
Let’s look at a conversation in which the receiver has some truth-trigger
reactions, but even so, works hard to understand the feedback. The
background is this: Monisha, the head of HR, has been asked by the CEO,
Paul, to design and conduct an employee climate survey to determine where
the senior executive team could improve. Monisha and her team spend
months collecting data from employees around the globe, and the results are
disquieting.
As Monisha presents the findings to the senior executive team, she and
Johann, the CFO, have a tense exchange:
Johann: Monisha, how many different ways are you going to tell us
that our employees think the executive team is incompetent? We get
it. But I’ll be honest, I don’t put much stock in any of this.
Monisha: Johann, I understand this is surprising, but I think it’s
important that we—
Johann: Garbage in, garbage out. You recall what that means?
Monisha: Do you have a specific question about what I’m presenting?
I can walk you through the methodology.
Johann: I’m sure you have lots of wonderful things to say about your
methodology, but unfortunately, some of us have a business to run.
And with that, Johann walks out.
Paul is chagrined at Johann’s handling of the exchange, but truth be told,
he feels similar frustration and skepticism. The meeting adjourns, and Paul
has the wherewithal to tell Monisha that he knows how hard her team has
worked on the project, and that while he’s unhappy about the results, he’d
like to better understand them. He asks Monisha to stop by the next day to
talk.
PAUL’S PREPARATION: MINDSET AND GOALS
Paul’s initial reaction is that the feedback doesn’t square with his sense of
the organization. But his purpose in the conversation is not to accept or
reject, but first to understand. He’ll seek to remain curious, spot labels, and
clarify Monisha’s data and interpretations. He’ll also share his own thoughts
and views.
THE CONVERSATION
Paul: Monisha, there’s a lot here for us to dig into and discuss. I have
two initial reactions. One is, “Wow, if this is how people are
feeling, then this is a real wake-up call, and I’ve got to understand
this better.” At the same time, I admit that some parts of it don’t fit
with my sense of the climate here. So it’s confusing, which is why
I’m glad you’re here to talk it through with me.
Comment: Nice. Paul’s statement reflects a mindset that is open to
learning, and at the same time, he’s being honest about how he’s
currently thinking and feeling.
Monisha: Paul, you can dismiss this feedback, and I can understand
the inclination to do that, but I don’t think hiding from reality is
going to get us anywhere.
Comment: Not the response he hoped for, but Paul shouldn’t take the
bait. He shouldn’t protest: “I’m not hiding from reality!” He should
stick with the topic: what the results mean and how they can be
helpful.
Paul: The feedback doesn’t match up with what I thought was going
on, but that doesn’t mean that what I thought was going on is
accurate. So this is what I want to investigate and understand.
Monisha: I think the primary finding is that our mid-level managers
are feeling disempowered and out of the loop.
Paul: Let’s get specific. What does it mean that they’re feeling
“disempowered and out of the loop”?
Comment: Well done. Paul doesn’t defend with a comment like, “Well,
we can’t include them in every decision.” Instead, he inquires,
trying to dig under the label.
Monisha: We surveyed everyone from associates to VPs. There was a
pervasive sense that the executive team doesn’t communicate well,
input is not sought, and contributions are not appropriately valued.
Paul proceeds to ask about numbers—how many employees thought this,
how the survey was structured, etc., and Monisha presents that information.
Paul: So, let’s look at a concrete example.
Monisha: A number of people mentioned the ethics initiative. People
were very unhappy that they had to attend a series of ethics
workshops over the course of a year, while the senior leadership
attended a session that was just two hours.
Paul: Well, we don’t call them “ethics workshops” or “ethics
meetings,” but ethics are embedded in our jobs, day in and day out.
I’m constantly meeting with lawyers, compliance people, risk
management people. Ethics and values are at the heart of
everything I do.
Comment: It seems reasonable for Paul to think these things, and
reasonable for him to share them. But in this context, he would be
better served to share them in a way that invites further
conversation. Like this:
Paul: If people are feeling that this is a cynical program, or that senior
leadership doesn’t buy in, I can imagine why they’d feel frustrated.
From my point of view, much of my job is about ethics. I meet with
lawyers, compliance people, risk managers. But the mid-level
people are obviously seeing it differently, and that’s a concern.
Monisha: Yes, they are seeing it differently. Part of it is a matter of
perception, of messaging. But I think there’s something deeper
going on here. A genuine attitude problem.
Paul: I’m not clear what you mean. What do you mean by messaging
versus attitude?
Comment: That’s good. If you don’t fully understand something, slow
things down and ask.
Monisha: Here’s the difference between a messaging problem and an
attitude problem: What was the primary motive behind senior
management’s doing only two hours of ethics work?
Paul: For one, we wanted to send the message that this really matters.
Monisha: But I think the message they heard was that “the senior
team doesn’t really need it.” It’s not the message you intended to
send, but that message is actually an accurate reflection of the
senior team’s attitude.
Paul: Hmm, that’s interesting. So you’re saying we sent a message we
didn’t intend, but which is actually the truth.
Monisha: I think so.
Paul: Just to clarify, do you think that’s the perception that some
people have of me personally? That I think the senior team doesn’t
need ethics training?
Comment: This is a useful question. If it’s not discussed, Paul could
leave the conversation with the impression that Monisha was
talking about others but not him.
Monisha: I don’t have specific information about how people see you
in this, but let me ask you: What is your attitude about senior
management and ethics training?
Paul: It’s as you said. I really do think I spend a lot more time on
ethics and I don’t feel the need to personally participate in the
workshops. But that sends a bad message.
Monisha: So you could do one of two things. You could either be
clearer in explaining why you don’t think senior management needs
this but others do, or you could cultivate a mindset where you
genuinely believe you do need it, and then participate fully. I
imagine even as you hear that, you’re thinking, “I’m just too busy
for that.”
Paul: I am thinking that. Ideally, I could participate, but I’m just too
busy.
Monisha: Which leaves those at lower levels thinking, if senior
management is too busy for this, how important is it? Or
alternatively, maybe they think it is important, which means it’s
important for senior leadership, too.
Paul: Okay, I’m beginning to see how someone might be resentful or
feel that we’re being hypocritical. This is a little shocking. In any
event, this is a lot to think about, and we haven’t even covered most
of the survey. But what we have covered has helped me get a better
sense of how others might see the leadership of the organization
and why.
This conversation between Paul and Monisha is not easy, but it’s important.
The key is purpose and mindset. Paul is not looking to agree or disagree,
defend or accept. He’s trying to understand. It’s not a problem-solving
session, it’s an understanding session. If Paul had followed his instincts, he
would have disagreed with Monisha at the outset, and the conversation
might have ended there. Instead, he listens for labels and works hard to look
under them, and when he’s unsure about what Monisha means, he doesn’t
let it slip by. He asks.
• • •
Giving up wrong spotting isn’t easy, and you don’t have to give it up
altogether. You can still indulge in recreational wrong spotting on the
weekends, with friends over a beer. Argue, accuse, vent, deny—give each
other a hard time. If it’s fun, it’s fun.
But when it matters, when you’re getting feedback that is important to
the giver or potentially helpful to you as receiver, put the wrong spotting
aside. You need to get good at difference spotting, and on occasion, break
out your right-spotting skills. Real learning requires you to take up this
harder but more rewarding sport.
Summary: SOME KEY IDEAS
Feedback is delivered in vague labels, and we are prone to wrong spotting.
To understand your feedback, discuss where it is:
Coming from: their data and interpretations
Going to: advice, consequences, expectations
Ask: What’s different about
The data we are looking at
Our interpretations and implicit rules
Ask: What’s right about the feedback to seek out what’s legit and what concerns you have in
common.
Working together to get a more complete picture maximizes the chances you will (both)
learn something.
4
SEE YOUR BLIND SPOTS
Discover How You Come Across
Annabelle is a superstar. She’s fast, creative, tireless, and careful. She
remembers birthdays. But what makes her irreplaceable is her impossible
combination of analytic smarts and beguiling, quirky charm.
And everyone on her team is sick of her.
It’s not a crisis. Annabelle is not a bully or a backstabber. Just the
opposite: She cares about her team members and believes they are most
productive when they’re happy.
But they are not happy. Annabelle knows this because her second 360 in
three years tells her this. She’s “difficult,” “impatient,” “doesn’t treat us
with respect.” That’s tough to take. Conveying respect is precisely the thing
Annabelle has been working on since her prior review. And after three
years, here it is again, with no acknowledgment of how hard she’s been
trying.
Annabelle wonders whether something else is going on. Maybe her
subordinates are playing politics or enjoy taking anonymous shots at the
boss. Or maybe it’s projection. Sometimes people fall into a parent-child
relationship with an authority figure to work through unrelated
developmental issues.
Annabelle is right: Something else is going on. But team members are
not playing politics, out to get her, or shadowboxing with absent parents.
Although Annabelle is trying to treat her team members with respect,
she’s sending unconscious signals that undermine her efforts. Tony
explains: “When Annabelle is under pressure, she is difficult to work with.
She says please and thank you, but underneath she’s full of impatience and
contempt. If I go to her office with a question, she rolls her eyes and
answers sharply. Then she’ll show me the door, which, she cheerfully
reminds me, is always open.”
Annabelle knows how she intends to come across. But she is blind to her
actual impact on others.
Annabelle is not alone.
Zoe thinks she’s supportive of new ideas, but is always the first to
shoot down a creative suggestion.
Mehmet takes neutral questions (“Did you have a good weekend?”)
as criticism (“Do you assume I didn’t?”) and is confused about why
others see him as prickly.
Jules keeps talking long after you’ve signaled you need to go. Even,
sometimes, after you’ve already gone.
How can these folks be so oblivious? Is it possible we are this oblivious,
too?
It is.
In fact, there is always a gap between the self we think we present and
the way others see us. We may not recognize ourselves in others’ feedback,
even when everyone else would agree that it’s the conventional wisdom
about who we are and how we are.
Why is it that there is such a gap between our self-perception and others’
stories about us? The good news is that the ways we are understood and
misunderstood by others are amazingly systematic and predictable.
THE GAP MAP
The Gap Map highlights the key elements that factor into the way I mean to
be seen versus the way I am actually seen. Read from left to right, the Gap
Map makes the cause of our blind spots visible.
Let’s start on the far left with our own thoughts and feelings. From these,
we formulate intentions—what we’re trying to do, what we want to have
happen. To achieve our intentions, we do and say things, we put behavior
out into the world. These behaviors have an impact on others, and based on
this impact, others develop a story about our intentions and character. They
then offer some version of these perceptions to us as feedback. By the time
others are describing you—to you—the figure they’re describing may bear
only vague resemblance to the “you” you know. We flinch, we squint, we
shake our heads. We don’t recognize ourselves.
Somewhere in this game of telephone, messages get garbled. By looking
more closely at how information moves across the map, we can pinpoint
where and why.
Let’s use the Gap Map to explain what is going on with Annabelle.
Recall the background: Three years ago, in her first 360, Annabelle
learned that her subordinates felt she wasn’t treating them respectfully. She
was dismayed to discover that they were unhappy and genuinely wants
them to be happier, so she has been working on being “respectful” ever
since.
Now let’s jump onto the map to see what happens. Annabelle’s focus is
on changing her behavior (arrow 3); but her thoughts and feelings (arrow 1)
remain unchanged. And this is a problem.
What are Annabelle’s actual thoughts and feelings about her team? They
are embedded in expectations and assumptions that have accrued over many
years. Annabelle has high standards for herself and high standards for those
around her. This comes from a combination of her temperament and her
early family life, as well as her school and work experiences, where she got
positive feedback for being quietly resourceful. Like a town that slowly
takes shape on the curve of a river, these experiences accumulated into a
village of values, assumptions, and expectations about what it means to be
“good” or “competent.”
Thus we arrive at the cross-currents swirling around her situation:
Annabelle is often dismayed when team members come to her with the
kinds of questions that she would have felt eager to figure out on her own.
She believes they aren’t trying or don’t care enough. As a result she often
feels impatient, annoyed, and disappointed in her team.
This creates a misalignment between her internal thoughts and feelings
on the one hand (arrow 1), and her intentions (arrow 2) on the other. She
believes that she keeps this misalignment hidden, but in fact those internal
thoughts and feelings are leaking into her behavior (arrow 3) through her
facial expressions, tone of voice, and body language.
Her colleagues “read” these leaking thoughts and feelings and then
wonder about Annabelle’s intentions. She sees her intentions as positive: “I
want my colleagues to feel respected and I’m trying so hard to act
respectful.” But her team members tell a different story. They see her as
deceptive and even manipulative: “You want us to think you respect us
when you don’t. Now you’re not just disrespectful, you’re disingenuous.”
Annabelle’s team is now even more unhappy and frustrated, and they
make this clear in her current 360. Annabelle receives the evaluation and
feels shocked, unappreciated, and misunderstood. She and her colleagues
are in a challenging downward cycle.
Below, we’ll explore some of the things that others observe about us that
we can’t—our blind spots—and then examine three “amplifiers,”
systematic differences between how others tell the story of who we are
versus how we tell that same story, which exacerbate the gaps on the map.
BEHAVIORAL BLIND SPOTS
A blind spot is something we don’t see about ourselves that others do see.
We each have our own particular items in our blind spot basket, but there
are some blind spots that we all share.
If we circle on our map the things I am aware of and the things you are
aware of, it turns out that my behavior is in your awareness and mostly not
in my awareness. We all know this about human interactions, and yet
somehow it comes as a surprise that our own behavior is largely invisible to
us.
YOUR LEAKY FACE
Who can see your face? Everyone. Who can’t see your face? You.
We convey a tremendous amount of information through facial
expressions. But our own face is a blind spot. The culprit is human
anatomy: We’re trapped inside ourselves looking out. We know what we
look like in the bathroom mirror, but we don’t know what we look like out
in the world, in motion, interacting with real people, reacting to real events
in our lives.
A decent pair of eyestalks would help—the kind that swivel, like the
ones aliens sport in B movies from the 1950s. With eyestalks we’d get a lot
of insight into why people react to us the way they do: “Oh, now I see why
you think I’m being defensive. I do look defensive.”
Why is so much communicated through facial expression? It’s not
because our faces are so wonderfully clear or expressive; we don’t have a
feelings newsfeed on our foreheads. It’s because most humans are so
wonderfully good at reading other people’s faces. This ability has been in
development for hundreds of thousands of years. Humans succeeded in
evolutionary terms not because we were the strongest or even the smartest.
We succeeded because we could cooperate with one another. We could do
things together (like hunting big game) that we couldn’t do by ourselves.
But we don’t only cooperate; we also compete. And when some people
are trying to help you and other people are trying to hurt you, your social
life gets complicated quick. This cooperation-competition dance rewards
those who can reliably distinguish friend from foe. And that requires the
ability to make smart guesses about the feelings and motivations of others.1
How do we make those guesses? We listen to what others say about their
feelings and motivations, certainly, but that alone isn’t enough. What if
others are trying to deceive us? We needed a way to assess feelings and
motivations that didn’t rely solely on intentional communication. So we
developed the ability to read nuances in faces and tone, and through this we
formulate a “theory of mind”2 about those we interact with.
The human deftness at reading people is most visible in its absence.
Those who fall on the autism spectrum often struggle with exactly this.
They often don’t look others in the eye and can’t read the social cues
transmitted by faces or tone.3 This language that seems so natural to most
people can be a struggle for them to learn.
The rest of us read those cues constantly and largely unconsciously.
Science writer Steven Johnson notes that we can measure “other people’s
moods just by scanning their eyes or the corners of their mouth,” adding
that it’s a “background process that feeds into our foreground processes;
we’re aware of the insights it gives us but usually not aware of how we’re
actually getting that information, and how good we are at extracting it.”4
YOUR LEAKY TONE
Tone of voice also conveys a surprising amount of information about our
feelings. Others get meaning not just from what we say but how we say it.
The precise percentage is impossible to determine (one study suggests 38
percent),5 but the point remains: Tone says a lot.
An actor can say “I love you” a hundred different ways to convey a
hundred different meanings. It can be an expression of passion or
resignation, confidence or doubt. It can be a proclamation or a question. Do
you know I love you? Do I love you? Do you love me? Tone, pitch, and
cadence—what linguists call intonation contours—enhance or subvert
meaning, and transmit rich information about the speakers emotions.
Infants sort what they hear through the superior temporal sulcus (STS),
located just above the ear. At four months all auditory information—
whether their mothers voice or a car horn—is attended to by the STS. But
by seven months, babies start singling out human voices as the only sounds
that trigger attention from the STS,6 and the STS shows especially
heightened activity when that voice carries emotion. This little piece of our
brain is dedicated to taking in language and reading tone and meaning.
But get this: When we ourselves speak, the STS turns off. We don’t hear
our own voice, at least not the same way we hear everyone else. This
explains why we are so often surprised when we get feedback based on how
we said something. (“Tone? I’m not using some kind of tone!”) It also helps
explain why our voice sounds so unfamiliar when we hear ourselves on an
audio recording. When transmitted from a speaker, our own voice gets
routed through our STS, and we suddenly hear ourselves the way others do.
(“I sound like that?!”) We’ve been hearing ourselves every day of our lives,
and yet we haven’t.
Interestingly, this may be part of the reason top opera singers so often
have voice coaches. “We refer to them as our ‘outside ears,’” says soprano
Renée Fleming. “What we hear as we are singing is not what the audience
hears.”7
University College London researcher Sophie Scott speculates that our
“listening” STS brain doesn’t attend to the sound of our own voice in part
because we are so absorbed in listening to our thoughts. Our attention can
focus on only one thing at a time, so we focus on our intentions—figuring
out how to say what we’re trying to say. Annabelle’s focus is on her
thoughts and intentions, not on her behavior and tone.8
So, like our facial expressions, our tone often betrays our thoughts and
feelings in ways we don’t realize. We try to sound relaxed, but come across
as uncomfortable; we mean to sound confident, but come across as
bombastic and insecure; we want to communicate love but instead plant a
seed of doubt.
YOUR LEAKY PATTERNS
It’s easy to understand how the subtle things we do can fall into a blind spot
—a furrowed brow here, an edgy tone there. What’s astonishing is that we
can be unaware of even big, seemingly obvious patterns of behavior.
This becomes apparent to Bennett one evening during a game of
charades with his family. When his five-year-old son mimes a person
pacing while barking into a cell phone, his daughter lights up: “It’s Daddy!”
Bennett winces: “How is that me?” “Because,” she says, “you’re always on
your cell phone!”
He is? Bennett works hard to minimize time on his cell when his kids are
around. But that’s not how they see it: In their minds he is constantly
interrupting family time to make or take a call. One reason for the
difference in their views is the perception of time. When we are on the
phone, we’re immersed in the conversation taking place, and time moves
along. Those around us overhear the dreaded half-a-logue; there’s no story,
just an unintelligible half conversation, and time creeps.
Even the big patterns in our lives that are almost comically obvious to
others may be blind spots to us. Over the last four years you’ve been in six
different relationships. At the beginning of each one, you proclaim to all
your friends: “This is the one.” The relationship moves through a manic
phase, with extravagant trips and adventures, and then settles down for a
few months, and then seemingly out of nowhere, you end it. The only thing
remarkable about any of this is that while your friends could chart the
course of your new relationship on a graph from the get-go, you are 100
percent oblivious to the fact that the relationships share any pattern. In fact,
it’s not until your closest friend does draw you a graph that you start to see
it.
E-MAIL BODY LANGUAGE
Surprisingly, even on e-mail, people try to read emotions and tone. Or more
precisely, despite lacking access to the senders face and voice, we retain
the desire to know their mood and intentions, so we gather what clues we
can.
E-mail can provide obvious clues, like ALL CAPS, lots of !!??!s, and
who is suddenly (strategically?) cc’ed, as well as more subtle ones, like
word choice or timing. We wonder why they responded instantly, or why
they waited so long. Was their three-word response pointed or merely to the
point? Was their outpouring of words just thorough, or a sign of
exasperation? We know what they said; we want to know what they meant.
THEY MAY SEE EXACTLY WHAT WE ARE TRYING TO HIDE
The fact that others are always reading our faces, tone, and behavior doesn’t
mean they are always reading us right. They can often tell when what we
say doesn’t match the way we feel, but they can’t always tell quite how.
Sometimes people simply read us wrong. You are feeling shy at cocktail
hour, wishing someone would approach you. But as you linger by the door,
others see you as “aloof” or “too good for the rest of us.” They are picking
up something in your demeanor, but their interpretation is off.
Other times people pick up on exactly the thing we are hoping to hide.
Annabelle’s colleagues are getting it right. The eye rolling, the sighs, the
smile through gritted teeth—she’s trying to hide her true feelings, but alas,
she’s sprung a leak. She doesn’t have to say “I’m disgusted.” Her face says
it for her.9
THREE BLIND-SPOT AMPLIFIERS
Others observe things about us that we literally can’t observe about
ourselves. Our blind spots are their hot spots. But differing observations are
only part of the blind-spot disconnect. There are three dynamics that
amplify the gap between how we see ourselves and how others see us. The
three amplifiers are interrelated, but each is worth examining on its own.
AMPLIFIER 1: EMOTIONAL MATH
Emotions play a huge role in the gap between how others see us and how
we assume we are seen. We subtract certain emotions from the equation:
“That emotion is not really who I am.” But others count it double: “That
emotion is exactly who you are.”
Sasha’s daughter recently left for college, and Sasha feels unexpectedly
bereft. Her friend Olga has been her lifeline, supportive in every way. So
Sasha is stunned to hear from a mutual friend that Olga described Sasha as
“self-obsessed and victim-y.”
Sasha doesn’t recognize herself in that description. Sure, she talks about
feeling lonely, but that’s normal when your only kid goes off to college,
isn’t it? What Sasha isn’t fully aware of is the relentless nature of her
complaints to Olga. For hours on end, days in a row, she talks about her
pain, without noticing the effect on Olga and without ever asking Olga
about her life. (Olga is confronting a difficult time of her own.)
We can empathize with both Sasha and Olga. Sasha is in pain, and Olga
is overwhelmed with being leaned on for support. We understand why
Sasha complains to Olga and why Olga vents about it to a friend. Our point
is not to judge either, but to note the way that Sasha discounts her emotions
from her story of who she is. This emotional math explains Sasha’s reaction
upon hearing the feedback. She’s not just hurt that Olga talked to a mutual
friend, she’s also baffled by the content. It’s just not true, she thinks. Why
would Olga say that?
Anger, too, is often invisible to its owner in the moment. You and your
colleague are under intense pressure to finalize tomorrow’s presentation to
the board. Late in the evening your colleague is struck by a game-changing
idea and excitedly shares it with you. You cut him off: “You want to start
over? At this hour? No #@%& chance!” You exit the conference room
quickly to prevent yourself from saying more.
The next day when your colleague mentions your outburst and the way
you “stormed” out of the room, you are in disbelief: “I’ve never once raised
my voice at you,” you assert. “And I don’t ‘storm.’” And in your mind, you
never have. When we are angry, we are focused on the provocation, the
threat. And it’s the threat that we remember later. For our colleague, our
anger is the threat. It’s not just part of the story, it’s the heart of the story.
Your anger is integral to how your colleague sees you and interacts with
you.
As the example above reveals, strong emotions can seem as if they are
part of the environment rather than part of us. It’s not that I was angry, we
think, it’s that the situation was tense. But situations are not tense. People
are tense.
AMPLIFIER 2: SITUATION VERSUS CHARACTER
Emotional math is really a subset of a larger dynamic. When something
goes wrong and I am part of it, I will tend to attribute my actions to the
situation; you will tend to attribute my actions to my character.10
When I take the last piece of cake at the party, you say it’s because I’m
selfish (character). I say it’s because no one else wanted it (situation). When
I hop on a conference call five minutes late, you say I’m scatterbrained
(character). I say I was juggling five things at once (situation). When I take
another personal day, you say I’m unreliable (character). I explain that I had
to arrange transportation for my ailing aunt Adelaide (situation).
The difference here is not just a matter of cutting ourselves a break. It’s
really an alternate way of telling the story. In extreme cases this helps
explain why a person who is convicted of business fraud, who bankrupted
scores of investors, for instance, can think of himself as an upstanding
member of society: “I’ve always been community-minded and generous. I
never meant to hurt anyone. But I got caught up in something that spun out
of control.” It was the situation, not me.
AMPLIFIER 3: IMPACT VERSUS INTENT
The third amplifier has already been hinted at on the Gap Map: We judge
ourselves by our intentions (arrow 2), while others judge us by our impacts
(arrow 4). Given that even good intentions can result in negative impacts,
this contributes to the gap in the story you tell about me versus the story I
know is “true.”
We see this happening with Annabelle. She is often frustrated by and
contemptuous of her colleagues. But she wants them to feel appreciated and
happy, so she formulates an intention to come across as respectful. She is
trying to do something positive. What could be wrong with that?
What’s wrong is that the impact on her colleagues is negative. Her
colleagues don’t think, Well, the impact was negative, but the important
thing is that you had good intentions. Instead, they notice the negative
impact and conclude that Annabelle is both difficult and insincere.
Annabelle judges herself by her intentions; her colleagues judge her by her
impacts.
This is a common pattern. My story about my interactions with others is
driven by my intentions. I have good intentions—I’m trying to help, to
guide, even to coach. I assume my good intentions lead to good impacts—
they feel helped, guided, and appreciate my efforts to help them grow.
Hence, people must know I’m a good person.
But for those around us, our impact drives their story. Despite my best
intentions, I may have a negative impact on you; you feel bossed around
and micromanaged. You then assume that I’m acting purposefully, or at
least that I know I’m being bossy and don’t care enough not to be. And if I
have negative or negligent intentions I must be a bad person. Now you give
me feedback that I’m bossy and controlling, and I’m shocked and
bewildered. I discard it because it doesn’t match who I am. It’s wrong. And
you conclude that I’m either oblivious to who I am or so defensive that I
refuse to acknowledge what everyone knows is true.
The “fix” is to separate intentions from impacts when feedback is
discussed. When Annabelle gets the feedback that she’s difficult, she insists
that she’s not difficult, saying in essence, “I have positive intentions and
therefore positive impacts.” But she doesn’t actually realize what impacts
she’s having. Instead, she should talk about intentions and impacts
separately: “I’ve been working hard to be more patient [arrow 2, my
intentions]. And yet it sounds like that’s not the impact I’m having [arrow
4]. That’s upsetting. Let’s figure out why.”
Feedback givers also confuse impacts and intentions. Their feedback is
packed with assumed intentions. Instead of saying, “You try to steal credit
for other people’s ideas” (which includes a description of intentions), they
should share the impact the behavior had on them: “I was upset and
confused when you said it was your idea. I felt I deserved the credit for that
idea.” But few feedback givers are this skilled or careful (because they’re
obviously terrible people).
THE RESULT: OUR (GENERALLY POSITIVE) SELF
All of these amplifiers—our tendency to subtract certain emotions from our
self-description, to see missteps as situational rather than personality-
driven, and to focus on our good intentions rather than our impact on others
—add up. And so we get statistics like this: 37 percent of Americans report
being victims of workplace bullies, but fewer than 1 percent report being
bullies. It’s true that one bully can have many victims, but it’s unlikely that
each averages thirty-seven.11
What’s more likely is that at least some percentage of those feeling
bullied are receiving ill treatment from people who are unaware of their
impact. They judge themselves by their intentions (“I was just trying to get
the job done right!”) and attribute others’ reactions to their hypersensitivity
(character) or the context (“Look, it was a tense situation. Anyone would
have reacted that way”). Telling this latter group not to bully others is no
solution, because they don’t realize that they’re doing so. Instead,
discussing the impact of specific behaviors (and prohibiting them when
appropriate) helps the offending party see themselves in the moment and
begins to illuminate their blind spot. And teaching people how to invite and
understand feedback—even if it feels upsetting or wrong—might help
parties on both sides sort things out more successfully.
WE COLLUDE TO KEEP EACH OTHER IN THE DARK
This begs the question: Why don’t people tell us? Why does it take a mutual
friend’s indiscretion for Sasha to hear that she is exhausting Olga’s
sympathies? Why does it take three years and another 360 for Annabelle to
find out that her contempt is still coming through loud and clear?
When we’re on the giving side, we often withhold critical feedback
because we don’t want to hurt others’ feelings or start a fight. We figure
they must already know, or that it’s someone else’s job to tell them, or that
if they really wanted to hear about it, they’d ask.
The result of this withholding is that it’s easy for the receiver to take
misplaced comfort in the absence of corroborating views: If what you’re
saying were true, other people would have told me. Since they haven’t, it
must not be true. It’s just one more reason that seeing ourselves clearly is
such a challenge.
WHAT HELPS US SEE OUR BLIND SPOTS?
Let’s start with what doesn’t help. You can’t see yourself more clearly just
by looking harder. Here’s why: When you do take a good hard look, what
you’ll see is that you don’t have any blind spots and that the feedback is
wrong. You will wonder about the cause of this wrong feedback, and your
mind will slide into an explanation about the ulterior motives or personality
disorders of those who gave you the feedback. We have the same Gap Map
reaction to them as they do to us, just in reverse. We know that we are upset
by wrong feedback and assume that others are giving it to us intentionally.
Which means they must have an agenda or that something is seriously
wrong with them.
USE YOUR REACTION AS A BLIND-SPOT ALERT
Thoughts like the above are so systematic that you can actually put them to
good use. Instead of dismissing the feedback or the person giving it to you,
use these thoughts as a blind-spot alert. When you notice yourself
wondering What was their agenda? and What’s wrong with them?, make
sure your next thought is I wonder if this feedback is sitting in my blind
spot.
ASK: HOW DO I GET IN MY OWN WAY?
To find out, we have to get specific. The feedback we ask for is usually too
general, or others assume that what we are really inviting is appreciation
(and sometimes they’re right). We say something as noncommittal as “So
how am I doing?” or “Do you have any feedback for me?,” which leaves
our giver guessing about what we really want—How are you doing with
what? This project? Our relationship? Your leadership? Your life?—and
how honest they should be. It’s not unlike asking your nine-year-old, “How
was your day?” We shouldn’t be surprised by their less-than-stimulating
response: “Fine.”
Instead, ask (the feedback giver, not your nine-year-old): “What do you
see me doing, or failing to do, that is getting in my own way?” This
question is more specific about the honesty you desire as well as your
interest in the impact you have on others. It’s also a narrower and easier
question for others to answer. They may start timidly (“Well, on occasion I
suppose that you sometimes . . .”), but if you respond with genuine curiosity
and appreciation, they’ll be able to paint you a picture that is clear, detailed,
and useful.
LOOK FOR PATTERNS
Our usual response to upsetting feedback is to reach for other feedback that
contradicts it, in order to protect ourselves. You say I’m self-absorbed?
Then how come I won the community service award last year? You think I
interrupt? Let me stop you right there . . . because I practically had to sit on
my hands last week during your inane presentation.
Instead of whipping out contradictory feedback, take a breath and look
for consistent feedback—consistent in two ways. First, consider to what
extent you are each describing the same behavior but interpreting it
differently (as the table to the left illustrates). Others may be
misunderstanding you (shy versus aloof), or you may be unaware of your
impacts (outgoing versus overbearing). The feedback is not initially what
you expect, but once it’s reinterpreted, you can at least identify the behavior
being discussed.
Here’s a second way to look for consistencies: Ask yourself, Where have
I heard this before? Is this the first time you’ve gotten such feedback, or
have you heard similar things from other people (or the same exact person)
over the years? Patterns offer useful clues about blind spots. If your first-
grade teacher and your first wife both complained about your hygiene, it
might be time to listen.
How I See Me How You See Me
Shy Aloof
Upbeat Phony
Spontaneous Flaky
Truth Teller Nasty
Passionate Emotional
Smart Arrogant
High Standards Hypercritical
Outgoing Overbearing
Quirky Annoying
GET A SECOND OPINION
If important feedback doesn’t resonate, take the whole set of questions to a
friend. Don’t say, “This can’t be true, can it?” Instead, lay out the problem
explicitly: “Here’s feedback I just got. It seems wrong. My first reaction is
to reject it. But I wonder if this is feedback in a blind spot? Do you see me
doing this sometimes, and if so, when? What impact do you see it having?”
You have to let your friend know that you want honesty, and here’s why.
Honest Mirrors Versus Supportive Mirrors
Offering feedback is often called “holding up a mirror” to help someone see
themselves. But not all such mirrors are identical in what they reflect. When
it comes to feedback, there are two kinds of mirrors—Supportive Mirrors
and Honest Mirrors.
A supportive mirror shows us our best self, well rested and under
flattering light. We go to a supportive mirror for reassurance. Yes, how we
acted in that moment was not a pretty picture, but it’s not how we really
look. It’s not a big deal. It’s a bad picture of you. Throw it away. You’re a
good person.
An honest mirror shows us what we look like right now, when we’re not
at our best and our bedhead is bad. It’s a true reflection of what others saw
today, when we were stressed and distracted and leaking our frustration.
“Yes, you really did come across that way. It’s not a good thing.”
Consciously or unconsciously, we often ask the people closest to us to be
supportive mirrors. We share a piece of feedback from the guy in
Purchasing, implicitly inviting our friend to be on our side: “He’s
overreacting, right? He just doesn’t understand I’ve got bigger things to
worry about, right?” Like the Wicked Queen in Snow White, we aren’t
asking the mirror for an honest assessment. We’re asking for reassurance
and support.
Reassurance and support are vital, and our friends and loved ones are
uniquely able to offer it. But this role can put them in a bind: People we rely
on for support are often hesitant to share critical, honest feedback with us.
And that feedback might be helpful: “You know what? I don’t think
everything Purchasing Guy said is right, and I don’t think he said it in the
best way, but I can see what he’s getting at. There are some things you
could work on.”
They are hesitant not out of cowardice, but out of confusion and concern.
They want to do what’s best for us, but aren’t sure whether just being
supportive is the right thing. And yet they also aren’t sure whether and how
to break out of the pattern that has been set. They are right to be concerned.
When someone has been a supportive mirror, we can feel betrayed and
blindsided if they suddenly become an honest one.
You can use the idea of honest mirrors and supportive mirrors to clarify
what you’re asking of your friends. When you hand over your freshly
finished screenplay or show them around your recent renovation, give them
some guidance. In what measure are you looking for honesty or needing
support? Being clear will help avoid crossed wires.
RECORD YOURSELF
For many of us, watching ourselves on video or hearing ourselves on audio
is unpleasant at best. But it can be enormously illuminating, enabling us to
hear our own tone and see our own behavior in ways that are normally
invisible to us.
Audiotaping her weekly brainstorming meeting is what helped Zoe
identify one of her blind spots. She prides herself on nurturing creativity
and was shocked to hear through the grapevine that her nickname among
coworkers is Annie Oakley, as in “she shoots down every idea.” So she
asked if one of her team members could use a smartphone to record a few
of their meetings. Asking a team member to take on the task not only gave
the team some control, it also alleviated worries that she might be collecting
data on them rather than on herself.
Zoe was stunned when she listened to the recording. “The first words out
of my mouth are always negative. Whenever someone offered an idea, my
first move was to challenge it. ‘Here’s what I’m worried about,’ or ‘Here’s
why I doubt that can work.’ It’s so obvious on the recording, but I had no
idea I was doing it.”
Zoe immediately understood what was going on. She genuinely believes
that fresh ideas are the lifeblood of the company, but she also fears wasting
time. Her anxiety about that possibility undermined the conversation, as she
invited ideas but then immediately invoked concerns about going down
unfruitful paths. Armed with this awareness, she and her team are now
working to manage the tension together.
Technology for collecting information about your blind spots is ever
evolving. At the MIT Human Dynamics lab, Sandy Pentland and colleagues
have developed electronic badges and smartphone apps that gather data as
people interact throughout the day. Designed to track tone, pitch, pace,
gestures, and other nonverbal cues, these devices help the researchers
examine how such social signals influence productivity and decision
making.12 Some of their initial findings are startling: Across contexts as
different as business teams, speed-dating, and political opinion polling,
approximately 40 percent of variation in outcomes can be attributed to
social signaling, behavior mostly occurring in our own blind spots. In other
words, the content of the conversation—the business pitch, the five-minute
date, or the polling question—wasn’t all that different. But the successful
pitches, prospects, and pollsters showed aligned social signals with their
counterparts. Talkers and listeners smiled, were more animated, vocal pitch
rose, and gestures got in sync.
By looking only at these signals the MIT researchers can predict
successful or unsuccessful outcomes. Their technology has been used to
help those with autism see and understand social cues; soon they may be
helping us all understand the impact we have as leaders, colleagues, and
family members on those around us, and on the outcomes we get.
FOCUS ON CHANGE FROM THE INSIDE OUT
When Annabelle was given feedback that colleagues found her
contemptuous, she heard the problem as being about her behavior: “They
don’t like it when I act disrespectful, so I’ll work on acting respectful.”
But her colleagues didn’t want her to seem respectful; they wanted her to
feel respectful. Annabelle should assume that people will ultimately read
her true attitude and feelings, whatever they are. So she has two choices.
She can either (1) discuss her true feelings—explain why she is frustrated
with her colleagues, where her expectations come from, and what would
help; or (2) work hard to change her feelings—not how she comes across,
but her genuine underlying feelings.
Option (1), perhaps surprisingly, can take a lot of the pressure off.
Annabelle can make her expectations explicit and then problem solve with
the team: Are the expectations realistic? If so, how do we get team
members to meet them? And what is Annabelle doing that might be
hindering them from stepping up? If she’s second-guessing their efforts, it
won’t take long for them to stop first-guessing.
Option (2) requires Annabelle to negotiate with her own feelings and
attitudes. It’s not about pretending or concealing, it’s about developing
authentic empathy and appreciation for her colleagues. She may need to see
her colleagues’ efforts in a new way, get to know them better as people, or
work harder to see what they are doing well.
As she negotiates with herself, she can enlist the support of her team: “I
get frustrated easily when I’m under pressure. I’m learning that I show it in
ways I didn’t realize. I’m working on reacting better under pressure, and
you can help me by pointing out my reaction in the moment.”
Just acknowledge the pattern that everyone already sees, and be clear that
you’re trying hard to change.
HAVE A PURPOSE
This chapter is subtitled “Discover How You Come Across.” We should be
clear that we mean that in the context of someone having feedback for you.
We aren’t urging you to make sure you know everything about how
everyone sees you, whether you want to or not, and whether they want you
to or not.13 People have all sorts of complex thoughts about us; some of
their negative thoughts would surprise us, and some of their positive
thoughts might surprise us even more.
In most circumstances, knowing that someone has a generally favorable
view of us is all we need to know. If not the whole story, it’s true enough,
and it serves us well to feel that other people think well of us. It helps us
feel comfortable, confident, and happy.
That reasoning breaks down, though, when someone is trying to give us
feedback. That’s when it’s important to work to learn more about how they
see you on this front, either because it will help them or because it will help
you. That’s when illuminating your blind spots makes a difference.
Summary: SOME KEY IDEAS
We all have blind spots because we:
can’t see our own leaky faces
can’t hear our tone of voice
are unaware of even big patterns of behavior
Blind spots are amplified by:
Emotional Math: We discount our emotions, while others count them
double.
Attribution: We attribute our failure to the situation, while others attribute it
to our character.
Impact-Intent Gap: We judge ourselves by our intentions, while others
judge us by our impact on them.
To see ourselves and our blind spots we need help from others.
Invite others to be an honest mirror to help you see yourself in the moment.
Ask: How am I getting in my own way?
RELATIONSHIP TRIGGERS
and the challenge of
WE
Relationship Triggers (and the challenge of WE)
In the prior section, we looked at truth triggers and the challenge to see the feedback
clearly. In this section we examine relationship triggers. Here, our reactions are caused not
by the feedback itself, but by our relationship with the person giving us the feedback. This is
the challenge of we. The question of who is offering us feedback doesn’t seem like it should
matter. Regardless of the source, the advice is either wise or foolish, the ideas worthwhile
or worthless. But it does matter. We are often more triggered by the person giving us
feedback than by the feedback itself. In fact, relationship triggers may be the most common
derailers of feedback conversations.
In chapters 2, 3, and 4, we looked at truth triggers—ways we get thrown off by the content
of the feedback. In chapters 5 and 6, we explore the common reasons we get thrown off
based not on the what of feedback, but on the who, where, when, why, and how. Each of
which really just comes back to the who. “You’re telling me this now, at my best friend’s
wedding? Seriously?” We disqualify that feedback because how, when, where, and why it
arrives says something damning about the who. Therefore, I don’t have to listen.
In chapter 5, we observe that we can dismiss feedback because of how we feel treated by
the giver—for example, they are being unfair or disrespectful. And we can also dismiss
feedback based on what we think about the giver—perhaps we believe they have no
credibility, or we suspect they have bad intentions. We’ll show you how you can learn and
benefit from feedback even when it’s delivered poorly or comes from someone you don’t
like or trust. And we’ll take a look at why in the world you’d want to.
The feedback we talk about in chapter 5 could be about anything—how to eat healthier, or
your revenue numbers this year. In chapter 6, we look at feedback that is actually created
by the relationship itself. Feedback is often prompted by differences, incompatibilities, or
friction between you and the giver. The giver is suggesting that if you would change (“Be on
time!” or “Quit being so controlling!”), the problem would be solved. We often react by
asserting that we are not the real problem, they are. The problem is not that we are five
minutes late; it’s that they are so uptight. And we wouldn’t need to be so controlling if they
would get off their backside and take some initiative.
So they think we are the problem and we think they are the problem. We’ll show you why
feedback in relationships is rarely about you or me. It’s usually about you and me and our
relationship system. Understanding relationship systems helps you move past blame and
into joint accountability, and talk productively about these challenging topics, even when the
other person thinks this feedback party is all about you.
As you read the next two chapters, have a couple of feedback givers in mind from your own
life. What makes hearing feedback from them so hard, and what might you learn from them,
even so?
5
DON’T SWITCHTRACK
Disentangle What from Who
In an episode of the HBO sitcom Lucky Louie, Louie comes home after a
hard day’s work at the auto body shop for a long-anticipated romantic
weekend with his wife, Kim. He has a gift for her—red roses—which he
presents with a flourish. Kim looks disappointed, and after a moment she
gives Louie some advice.
Kim: Listen. Try not to take this the wrong way, okay? But if we’re
going to be married for the next 30 years, I need you to know that
red roses are not my thing. I really don’t like red roses.
Louie: Okay, well, can I critique how you just told me that? It’s not
that big a deal. I just think that you should have thanked me for the
flowers first, and then said the thing about the roses.
Kim: I’ve told you before that I don’t like red roses. Remember that?
Louie: But still, I was thinking of you, so I bought you flowers.
Kim: If you were thinking of me, you wouldn't have gotten me red
roses.
Louie: Oh, come on, Kim, I brought you flowers. That's a nice thing!
You say thank you. It's called being polite.
Kim: You know what would be polite? If when I told you things, you
actually listened!
Louie: Hang on, all I'm asking for here is a tiny bit of gratitude. So
maybe they're not your favorite kind of flowers—
Kim: No, I didn't say not my favorite, I said, Don't bring me red roses.
Louie: What is wrong with you? Are you allergic to saying thank you
to people?!
Kim: How do you expect someone to thank you for giving them
something they specifically told you they don’t want?
Louie: You know what’s a better question? How you get given red
roses and turn around and act like this?!1
Argument: 1. Romantic Weekend: 0.
What happened? The surface story is clear enough: Louie gives Kim
roses, Kim gives Louie feedback, and then they have a fight. Of course,
their reactions suggest that this conversation is about something deeper: It’s
not about the roses, it’s about the relationship.
RELATIONSHIP TRIGGERS CREATE SWITCHTRACK
CONVERSATIONS
Kim’s feedback trips a relationship trigger for Louie.
Her feedback is simple: I don’t like or want red roses. More important,
she’s frustrated because Louie should know she doesn’t like red roses—not
because she expects him to read her mind but because she’s told him so,
many times. The roses are Exhibit A for her long-standing feeling that
Louie doesn’t listen to her. Later in the episode Kim explains:
When I tell you things and you don’t listen, it’s a huge insult to me. It
makes me feel like I don’t matter.
How does Louie respond to Kim’s feedback? He changes the subject,
entirely and completely. But wait—Kim is talking about red roses, and
Louie is talking about red roses. Same topic, right?
But it’s not. Kim is using the red roses to raise how she feels unseen and
unheard. Louie walks right past the topic of how Kim feels and talks instead
about his own topic: how he feels unappreciated. There’s nothing wrong
with that reaction or that topic, but it has zero overlap with Kim’s topic.
Now we have two people giving feedback and no one receiving it.
The dynamic that Louie and Kim have fallen into is so common that
we’ve given it a name: a switchtrack conversation. Their conversation gets
smoothly shifted, as if by railroad switch, from one topic to two. Soon they
are each heading in their own direction, moving farther and farther apart.
A key part of the dynamic here is that the person receiving the original
feedback is unaware that they are changing the subject. Louie does not
switch topics to avoid Kim’s feedback. He switches topics because he feels
triggered. When Kim says she doesn’t like red roses, Louie feels hurt and
frustrated. For him, Kim’s lack of appreciation is the topic of the exchange.
His emotions shunt the conversation sideways, and Louie heads off down
his own track.
SWITCHTRACKING DEFEATS FEEDBACK
Switchtracking has two potential impacts, one good and one bad. The
potentially positive impact is that the second topic being put on the table
may be important—sometimes more important than the feedback that
triggered it. We may have hesitated to raise it earlier, but here it is, finally
out in the open. And now that it’s out in the open, we can deal with it.
The negative impact is that because we now have two topics, the
conversation gets tangled. Dealing with two topics is not a problem in itself
—we can address two, twelve, or twenty in a single sitting. But with
switchtrack conversations, we don’t realize there are two separate topics,
and so both get lost as we each hear the other person through the filter of
our own topic.
When Kim says: “How do you expect someone to thank you for
something they specifically said they don’t want?” her topic is “Louie not
listening,” and this statement says so. But if the comment is heard through
Louie’s “Kim is ungrateful” topic filter, then the statement itself is further
evidence of Kim’s ingratitude. What do Kim and Louie learn in this
feedback conversation? They each “learn” what they already know: that
Louie won’t listen even when being told he doesn’t listen. And that Kim is
selfish and rude, and Louie just can’t win.
SILENT SWITCHTRACKING CAN BE WORSE
Sometimes the second track in a switchtrack isn’t out in the open, but runs
underground. Our reactions remain locked in our heads, silently shouting
objections while we resentfully endure the criticism from our stepdaughter
or department head. We’ve long since switched to our own topic: Wow,
you’re telling me to calm down? You’re the most tightly wound person I’ve
ever met in my life. And I guess I now have to add un–self-aware. We then
walk away and vent our frustrations to others. (“Is Jenna the most neurotic
person on the planet, or just this hemisphere? I can’t decide.”) We
triangulate the conflict and short-circuit learning in all directions.
TWO RELATIONSHIP TRIGGERS
So the switchtrack dynamic has four steps: we get feedback; we experience
a relationship trigger; we change the topic to how we feel; and, step four,
we talk past each other. To get better at managing our impulse to
switchtrack, we have to get better at understanding the relationship triggers
that create these impulses. Below, we look at two key kinds of relationship
triggers: (1) what we think about the giver, and (2) how we feel treated by
the giver.
WHAT WE THINK ABOUT THEM
There are people we admire so much that their actions and advice take on a
golden glow. Our default assumption is that their input is wise, thoughtful,
deep—just the thing we need to hear. We hang on their every word and
strive to emulate them. Their feedback comes preapproved.
What We Think About Them
Skill or Judgment: How, when, or where they gave the feedback.
Credibility: They don’t know what they’re talking about.
Trust: Their motives are suspect.
Then there’s everybody else. Feedback from these others may not be
predisqualified, but we are on higher alert. We can disqualify the giver on
any number of grounds—the most common involving trust, credibility, and
the (lack of) skill or judgment with which they deliver their feedback. And
once we disqualify the giver, we reject the substance of the feedback
without a second thought. Based on the who, we discard the what.
Skill or Judgment: How, When, or Where They Gave the Feedback
The first and easiest target is how, when, and where the feedback is offered
(all of which reflect directly on the who). The giver fails to handle the
giving with appropriate care; how they give it shows a lack of skill; when
and where they give it shows a lack of judgment.
“Why would you say that in front of my fiancé?”
“You waited until now to bring this up?”
“You should have thanked me for the flowers first, and then said the
thing about the roses.”
We are (often justifiably) outraged by where, when, and how, and a classic
switchtrack ensues. We engage in a heated exchange about how
inappropriate it was that our anger management problem was raised in front
of a client, but never circle back to discuss the actual anger management
problem. I’m on my track, you’re on yours, and we soon lose sight of each
other.
Credibility: They Don’t Know What They’re Talking About
We can also react to the givers lack of expertise, background, and
experience. He’s never started a business; she’s never coached organized
soccer. He has lived his whole life in Dodge City, Kansas, and is offering
his “wisdom” about the immigrant experience. They are full of parenting
pointers because they aren’t parents. Why should we listen to them?
These are all reasonable reactions. Yet the fact remains that we can often
benefit from the insight of newcomers or outsiders unencumbered by
knowledge of “the way things are done.” They might ask just the right
“naïve” question, or offer a unique perspective. It’s not entirely surprising
that the MP3 technology that revolutionized the music industry, and the
smartphone technology that changed telecommunications, came from
outside those worlds. New ideas often come from those without traditional
credibility, who are freer to think outside the box precisely because they
don’t know there is a box. History abounds with examples of battles won
thanks to the insight of a junior corporal with a deft suggestion.
Even in personal relationships, a fresh perspective can cut through a
complicated history and the elaborate rationales we construct over time. A
new friend can see ways in which an old friend isn’t being fair, or make a
suggestion that could ease a dynamic between you and your half brother
that is entrenched in habit and history. When someone asks, “Why do you
let your business partner put you down so much?,” pause before you
explain what she’s like and how you have to know her to understand. And
consider whether their ideas for changing the situation just might help.
The other kind of credibility issue that triggers reactions has to do with
values and identity. We don’t want to be the kind of leaders—or the kind of
people—that they are. So why would we take their coaching?
Fair enough. If they’re coaching you on how to deceive your spouse or
how to embezzle from the pension fund, by all means, proceed with
caution. Yet more often other people’s coaching is aimed at helping you
navigate the complex environment you share, or dealing with roadblocks in
the distance that they have already seen up close. There are often aspects of
their counsel that are helpful or even wise, even as you choose to
implement them in a way that is more consistent with your own values.
It’s not that credibility and background knowledge are irrelevant. Their
experience is a factor in weighing the feedback’s usefulness, but don’t use it
to automatically reject their counsel.
Trust: Their Motives Are Suspect
“Trust” in this context refers to the givers motivations, and is fundamental
to our willingness to consider other people’s coaching, accept their
evaluation, or believe their appreciation genuine.
The Rabbit Hole of Intentions
You want to hurt me.
You’re projecting your own issues onto me.
You want to show me who’s boss.
You’re playing favorites.
You’re threatened by me.
You have no filter and can’t stop blurting out stupid things.
You’re just jealous.
You’re building a case against me.
You’re being nice, but not honest.
You’re trying to control me.
You’re more than a little nuts.
Mistrust can get triggered in several ways. Sometimes we fear that the
givers intentions are nefarious. We don’t trust the feedback because the
person giving it seems out to undermine or control us. Or we may simply
doubt that they have our best interests at heart. Or they might not care about
us one way or the other—they’re giving us feedback so they can check that
obligatory box.
That’s fine, we’ll check “feedback received” and be on our way.
Other times you wonder if they’re telling the truth. Are they saying nice
things about your work because they think it’s good or because they’re too
wishy-washy to tell you how they really feel? And what are they saying
behind your back?
Intentions are rarely explicitly stated, and even when they are, we may or
may not believe them. You say you are “just trying to help,” but it sure
seems as if you are “just trying to get me fired.” The challenge here, as
we’ve seen, is that intentions are invisible. They are locked up in the givers
head, where even the giver may not be fully aware of them. And this makes
intentions tricky. We care deeply about others’ intentions but we simply
can’t know them.2 And so we go down the rabbit hole of trying to guess,
and burrow around in the dark. When we finally emerge, we’re still
uncertain, or worse, we think we know their intentions when we don’t. It’s
not that we should therefore assume good intentions. We should just be
aware that we don’t know, which makes arguing about intentions a
conversational dead end.
And besides, the question of intentions is a separate topic from the
accuracy or helpfulness of feedback. The giver might be jealous or mean-
spirited or totally nuts, and yet their feedback might be dead right, the most
useful thing we’ve heard in months. Or maybe they really and truly do have
our best interests at heart. But their suggestion that you wear those yellow
leather leggings to the office? Still a bad idea.
So treat trust and content as separate topics, because they are separate
topics. Explore what might make sense about the feedback itself. And you
can share with the giver the impact that their feedback has had on you,
without insisting that you’re sure of their intentions. Don’t use the
relationship trigger of trust to automatically disqualify the feedback.
SURPRISE PLAYERS IN THE FEEDBACK GAME
Relationship triggers based on what we think about a giver help explain
why our best friends can tell us things that others cannot. If we trust them
and think they have credibility on a particular topic (on career advice but
not love life advice, or vice versa), we will be inclined to be more receptive
to their feedback.
Relationship triggers also explain why sometimes those closest to us
can’t give us feedback, no matter how well intentioned or accurate.
Strangers
Fred was leaning on his crutch, studying the café menu, when a woman
tapped him on the shoulder. “I don’t mean to intrude,” she said, “but I
notice that you’re using those crutches the same way I used mine last year.
Apparently it’s not the best way to handle them, and I ended up injuring my
hip. I spent six weeks recovering from the original injury and six months
recovering from the misuse of the crutches.”
The woman showed Fred how to adjust his grip and stride, and he arrived
home excited to show his girlfriend Eva what he’d learned. Eva was
indignant: “I’ve been telling you that for weeks. You ignore me but the
minute some stranger says the same thing, you’re sold?”
Indeed. The advice was identical, but the person giving it changed. And
that removed the relationship trigger that blocked the feedback when it
came from his girlfriend. In Fred’s view, Eva rather enjoys bossing him
around, something he enjoys rather less. And she has never been on
crutches, so what does she know? The café stranger? A whole different
story. Why would the stranger say anything unless she was trying to help?
And she established right up front that she had walked in Fred’s (orthotic)
shoes. Credibility. No ulterior motives. Feedback taken.
Those You Least Like and Who Are Least Like You
The other surprisingly valuable players in the feedback game are the people
you find most difficult. That woman down in Procurement who constantly
pesters you for paperwork? The client overseas who seems to think you’re
an idiot? That relative who makes every family gathering all about her,
including funerals? That’s who we’re talking about.
You don’t trust them. You don’t like them. They say all the wrong things
at all the wrong times. Why in the world would you listen to feedback from
them?
Because they have a unique perspective on you. We tend to like people
who like us and who are like us.3 So if you live mostly without friction with
your mate or work well with a colleague, chances are you have similar
styles, assumptions, and habits. Your preferences and expectations may not
be identical, but the two of you fall into an easy complementariness.
Because of this ease, you are often at your best and most productive with
them.
They can’t help you with your sharpest edges because they don’t see
those edges. The woman in Procurement does. She thinks you’re arrogant,
flip, irresponsible. Unpleasant, curt, avoidant. You know the problem is her
—she brings out your worst. But it is your worst. It’s you under pressure,
you in conflict.
It’s here that we often have the most room to grow. When we are under
stress or in conflict we lose skills we normally have, impact others in ways
we don’t see, are at a loss for positive strategies. We need honest mirrors in
these moments, and often that role is played best by those with whom we
have the hardest time.
If that overseas client thinks you’re an idiot, then there’s something
going on that you’re not “getting,” and without her help, you’re not going to
get it. It may be a cultural difference that you need to understand if you’re
going to be effective in her market. It may be that your tone and word
choice are upsetting her in ways you don’t realize. That’s worth figuring
out. And you’ll need her help to do it.
Want to fast-track your growth? Go directly to the people you have the
hardest time with. Ask them what you’re doing that’s exacerbating the
situation. They will surely tell you.
HOW WE FEEL TREATED BY THEM
How We Feel Treated By Them
Appreciation: Do they see our efforts and successes?
Autonomy: Are we given appropriate space and control?
Acceptance: Do they respect or accept who we are (now)?
The first type of relationship trigger derives from what we think about the
feedback giver. The second type comes from how we feel treated by them.
Whether professional or personal, casual or intimate, we expect many
things from our relationships. Among these there are three key relationship
interests that commonly get snagged on the brambles of feedback: our
needs for appreciation, autonomy, and acceptance.
Appreciation
Since her stroke three years ago, you have been your sisters primary
caretaker. It has been a challenge. As your exhaustion grows, your patience
is stretched thin. This morning you snapped at your sister, and her son
happened to be nearby. And he snapped, too: “Don’t ever talk to Mom that
way!”
Fine. He is right. But where’s the appreciation for years of caretaking?
Where’s the acknowledgment for showering and changing her every day;
where’s the appreciation for how you’ve fed her and held her and carried
her? You understand why your nephew was upset, but in the bigger picture,
his feedback is deeply, maybe even hatefully, unfair and out of balance. At
least, this is how it feels to you in the moment.
We can be triggered even when a relationship is good and the matter at
hand is minor. Ernie gladly covered for Samantha when she took a few days
off to visit colleges with her son. When Samantha returned, the first thing
she did was question why Ernie hadn’t managed to call a client back.
There’s no simmering history between them, but Ernie is triggered. He
doesn’t say, “This feedback is great because it’s helping me learn how to
deal with your clients in a more timely fashion.” He says, “What is wrong
with you?!” Not because Samantha’s feedback is wrong, but because to
Ernie it feels unbalanced. And because his expectations of a warm thank-
you were so sharply overturned.
This kind of swift reversal is also part of what triggers Louie: I am doing
something nice for you, and your reaction is not just neutral, it’s negative.
In a flash Louie goes from happy to hurt. Whether Kim’s feedback is valid
or not, he can’t hear it. He’s still smarting from the unexpected sting.
Autonomy
Autonomy is about control, and in telling us what to do or how to do it,
givers can trip this wire in an instant. Often our boundaries are invisible—to
others and even to us—until they have been violated. That’s when the
contours suddenly crystallize.
As kids we’re constantly negotiating these boundaries with our parents
—“I’m in charge of the Cheerios on my highchair tray and I’ll sweep them
onto the floor if I damn well please.” We continue to negotiate these
boundaries as adults. Your boss does not get to give you feedback on your
e-mail to your team before you send it out. It’s your e-mail to your team
about your Cheerios marketing campaign. At least, that’s how you see it.
We are particularly sensitive to encroachments that seek to control who
we are. “Back off,” we want to say. “I control my attitudes; I control my
behaviors; I control my personality; I control how I dress and walk and talk.
When you give me this sort of feedback you are not only violating
boundaries, you are misunderstanding your role in my life.”
My autonomy map and your autonomy map will occasionally clash,
raising questions about who gets to decide. That’s a negotiation, and an
important set of conversations to have, clearly and explicitly. We can
imagine situations where we would empathize with the feedback receiver
(“If I have to clear every e-mail to my team with headquarters, we’ll never
get anything done”) and others in which we’d side with the feedback giver
(“You’re new here, and it’s my responsibility to make sure your e-mails
comport with our organization’s norms”). Whichever way we decide,
simply realizing that we’re triggered not by the advice itself but by being
told what to do will help us address the correct topic. We can have an
explicit conversation about the appropriate boundaries of autonomy instead
of a pointless argument about whether your suggested grammatical changes
to my e-mail make sense.4
Acceptance
It’s the paradox at the heart of many feedback conversations: We find it
hard to take feedback from someone who doesn’t accept us the way we are
now.
My dad is full of advice. I might be able to hear it if, for once, he’d
just say, “You know, kid, you turned out okay.”
Nothing I do is ever good enough for my boss. My very presence on
her team seems to agitate her, but she knows she needs what I do.
My ex, at the end of the day, simply wanted me to be a different
person.
This is complex terrain. The givers want us to change in some way. We
want to know that it’s okay if we don’t. You say you love me in spite of my
flaws; I want you to love me because of them.
One dynamic that contributes to the challenge is that the giver and
receiver may define acceptance differently. What to the giver seems like a
recommendation for a small behavioral tweak may feel to the receiver like a
rejection of Who I Am.
That’s what’s going on with David and Cheng. David often gives Cheng
advice on climbing the ladder of success: “There’s no one more talented
than you, but in this industry, image is as important as substance. If you
want to get plucked from the chorus line, you’ve got to kick high.”
Cheng finds David’s coaching inane and insulting. He explains to David
that that’s not who he is. If he advances it will be on merit, and if he doesn’t
advance, at least he lived his life his way. It’s not worth sacrificing the
humility and authenticity at the core of his identity to become a phony, self-
promoting windbag.
David finds Cheng’s reaction puzzling. In his mind, he is suggesting a
small adjustment to Cheng’s behavior that would pay big dividends. It has
nothing to do with “who Cheng really is.” What he’s recommending is
superficial—that’s the point. David wonders whether Cheng’s “this is who I
am” mantra is really just a way to insulate himself from criticism.
That raises the second sticky issue around acceptance and change. When
we say, “accept me as I am,” are we really just asking for immunity from
critique? Forgot to pick up the kids after school? That’s just who I am! Lost
my temper in front of our new funders? Just me being me! Crashed the car
after too many drinks at the party? C’est moi!
While we all need to feel accepted as we are, we also need to hear
feedback—particularly when our behavior is affecting others. Being
accepted isn’t an escape hatch from responsibility for consequences, as we
discuss in more detail in chapter 10. So, seek acceptance. And work to make
amends with the kids and with the funders (and with the car).
RELATIONSHIP TRIGGERS: WHAT HELPS?
The goal here isn’t to dismiss the relationship issues that trigger reactions.
As we’ve said, sometimes the second topic is at least as important as the
first. The goal is to get better at realizing when we’ve got two topics on the
table, and to address each on the merits rather than letting one get tangled
up in, or cancel out, the other.
There are three moves that can help us manage relationship triggers and
avoid switchtracking. First, we need to be able to spot the two topics on the
table (the original feedback and the relationship concern). Next, we need to
give each topic its own conversation track (and get both people on the same
track at the same time). Third, we need to help givers be clearer about their
original feedback, especially when the feedback itself relates to the
relationship.
SPOT THE TWO TOPICS
The first skill is awareness. We can’t give each topic its own track unless
we are aware that there are two topics. Let’s take spotting practice. Find the
switchtrack in the following examples:
Daughter: Mom, you never let me go out. You treat me like a child.
Don’t you trust me?
Mom: You should be grateful you have a mother who cares.
Topic one is the daughters view that her mother treats her like an
untrustworthy child. The mother responds by switchtracking to topic two:
her feeling that her daughter is ungrateful (an appreciation trigger). Better
for Mom to stay on topic one. She could ask about the daughters views:
“Let’s talk about how you’d like to be treated.” Or she could clarify her
own thinking about trust: “I want to trust you, and that needs to be
earned. . . .” Once they have this conversation, Mom could circle back and
raise the question of whether her daughter is grateful and what that means
to each of them.
Boss: You didn’t meet your sales numbers.
Salesperson: Why are you telling me this right before I head out on
vacation?
Topic one is the sales numbers. Topic two is the appropriate time to raise
the sales numbers (skill/judgment of the giver).
Wife: This place is a mess! You were supposed to have the kids fed
and bathed by the time I got home. Now we’ll be late for the
recital!
Husband: Don’t use that tone with me. I’m not the dog!
Wife: That’s where you want to go with this? You did precisely none
of the things you promised, and you’re making this about me?
Husband: That! That tone right there is exactly what I’m talking
about.
Topic one is how the wife feels about her husband not doing what he’d
promised. Topic two is the wife’s tone and the husband’s reaction to it
(skill/how/autonomy).
A pedestrian pounds on our car as we sit at a red light. He shouts:
“You’re in the crosswalk!” We honk and shout: “Don’t you dare
pound on my car!”
Topic one is the pedestrian’s feedback to us that we shouldn’t be in the
crosswalk. Topic two is our feedback to the pedestrian that he shouldn’t
pound on our car (autonomy/skill). We will be tempted to focus only on the
pounding and not on the original feedback, but the feedback may be
legitimate. If we have a tendency to encroach on crosswalks, we may not
realize that we make it harder for people in wheelchairs or with kids to
make it comfortably across the street.
GIVE EACH TOPIC ITS OWN TRACK
Okay, you’ve spotted the two topics. Now what?
Signposting
At the point at which you realize there are two topics running
simultaneously, say that out loud and propose a way forward. Just like the
signal that directs train traffic at the switch, you’re offering a directional
sign to mark the junction where two tracks—the two topics—are splitting.
Ella is a teachers assistant who works with children with disabilities.
She spends extra time with the children before and after school, and uses
her evenings to design activities and collect art supplies. The teacher Ella
assists offers very little in the way of coaching or appreciation, and Ella, not
wishing to make waves, hasn’t requested any.
Eight months into the school year, the teacher speaks up: “You’re
spending too much time focused on Howard. There are nine other children
in this class.” Ella is shocked and thinks: After eight months, the first piece
of feedback I get is that I’m caring about a child too much? Have you
noticed what I mean to these kids? Have you noticed what I put into this
job? Her switchtracking is silent—her objections aren’t spoken aloud—but
her upset is likely leaking out as she quickly escapes into the hallway.
As Ella calms down, she gains some awareness and thinks: Oh, there are
two topics here. One is whether I’m spending too much time with Howard,
and the other is the one that’s triggering me right now—feeling totally
unappreciated, especially since I haven’t gotten any appreciation or
coaching all year long.
The next step is signposting. Ella goes back to the classroom and says to
the teacher: “Let’s talk about Howard and how I’m spending my time.
That’s important. This is also the first time I’ve gotten feedback. So after
we talk about Howard, I want us to come back to the question of how I get
feedback and what you notice in my work with the kids that is positive.”
The template for signposting is this: “I see two related but separate topics
for us to discuss. They are both important. Let’s discuss each topic fully but
separately, giving each topic its own track. After we’ve finished discussing
the first topic, we’ll swing back around and discuss the second one.”
Of course normal people don’t talk this way, and signposting isn’t a
natural move for most of us. It requires us to step outside the conversation
and look in on it. In fact, it’s that absence of flow that is one of the reasons
it’s so helpful. It breaks the normal reactive conversation pattern by being
hyper-explicit about what’s going on. Use your own words, but be clear.
Which topic should you discuss first? There are two factors to consider.
First, an edge should be given to the original feedback. That’s what the
other person wanted to discuss, and all things being equal, you’re better off
starting with their topic. But the second factor to take into account is
emotion. If your relationship trigger reaction is so strong that it gets in the
way of your being able to take in what they are saying, then you should say
so and propose that your topic be discussed first. This will help you hear
their topic, and at the end of the day, that’s what they care about most.
LISTEN FOR THE RELATIONSHIP ISSUES LURKING BENEATH THEIR “ADVICE”
Even when we are alert enough to resist switchtracking, we can fall into
another common trap: We stay on the givers topic (their track), but we
misunderstand what that topic is. This happens in part because of the often-
clumsy way givers raise their concerns. Our giver says he is giving us
“friendly advice” to help us improve, when really he is raising a deeper
relationship issue between us. We take the comment at face value and
assume we understand. But we don’t.
Remember Louie and Kim. Notice that what Kim says when she first
offers Louie coaching is essentially: “If you want to give me a gift, I don’t
like roses.” One could be forgiven for thinking the topic is gift giving. But
as things play out, it becomes clear that Kim’s topic is actually her feelings
of being unheard.
This is common. Often when we feel hurt, frustrated, ignored, offended,
or anxious, we try to keep feelings out of the picture. We use the guise of
well-intended coaching to instead offer a selection of “tips.” But we’re not
really offering coaching for the other person’s benefit. We’re hoping they
will change for our benefit.
So when you receive coaching, a question to ask yourself is this: Is this
about helping me grow and improve, or is this the givers way of raising an
important relationship issue that has been upsetting them?
“You might want to be more responsive”
might mean: “I’m frustrated that you don’t return my calls.”
“I think you’d be happier if you didn’t think about work night and
day”
might mean: “You’re so preoccupied with work that it’s lonely for me.”
“If you delegate some of your workload to me you’ll have more time
for the important things”
might mean: “I want you to trust me with more responsibility.”
“You’re drinking too much. It’s not good for you”
might mean: “I’m worried about your drinking, and it’s getting in the way
of our relationship.”
Why does it matter if I misunderstand their topic? Sometimes it doesn’t.
If I drink less, it will be good for me, as well as a relief for them. But if I
take their coaching simply as a suggestion for me, I may reasonably
disagree about what makes me happy. I may say, “Actually, when I work
less, I get restless.” Case closed, let’s move on. But if their concern is that
they feel lonely, I’ve missed the real topic altogether.
This is not to say that every piece of coaching you get is really hurt
feelings in a coaching disguise. Don’t simply assume there is always
something deeper going on. Instead, check: Are we on the same track?
What is the real topic here?
In fact, sometimes even the giver doesn’t realize that their coaching
comes primarily from their own anxiety or frustration. Your mother asks,
“Why aren’t you married yet? I don’t think you’re really making an effort to
meet people.” Your mother is giving you (unwanted) coaching, yes. And the
temptation will be to:
(a) Argue with her assessment (“That’s not true, I am making an effort”);
or
(b) Switchtrack in reaction to not feeling accepted (“I’m perfectly happy
being single. Why are you always trying to change me?”); or
(c) Switchtrack to protect your autonomy (“Mom, I’m thirty-eight years
old. I can run my own life!” To which she will respond: “Apparently
not”).
Listen to your own autonomy and acceptance triggers. But also listen for
the fears and concerns underlying your mothers advice, which may be at
the heart of what’s going on for her. Instead of arguing with her dating
advice, ask: “What are you worried about?” You might learn any of the
following:
I’m worried you don’t understand that it will get harder as you get
older.
I’m worried you’ll end up with someone you don’t like (like I did).
I’m worried you’ll end up with someone I don’t like.
I’m worried you won’t be able to support yourself.
I wonder whether you ever take my advice (you don’t seem to).
I wonder whether I did something “wrong” to make it turn out this
way for you.
I can’t relax until you’re married.
Notice that none of these worries is really about dating strategies, the initial
subject of her “coaching.” Understanding her concerns will also help ease
your own relationship triggers—this is less about accepting who you are,
and more about her worries about who she is, and her worries for you. After
understanding this, you can make a good decision about whether your
initial triggers around autonomy and acceptance still feel important to
discuss.
LOUIE AND KIM: TAKE TWO
Once you are aware of relationship triggers and switchtrack conversations,
you will see them everywhere. Like a mouse in a maze, you’ll start noticing
just how many places feedback conversations can split into two and
sometimes three topics at once.
Let’s consider how the conversation would go if instead of
switchtracking, Louie responded more effectively. He might say something
like, “I was hoping the flowers would make you happy, but I can tell that
you’re upset. Help me understand why.” This would be an example of
Louie’s staying on Kim’s track (her feedback to him) to better understand it
first. Or he might signpost by saying: “Okay, I forgot you don’t like roses.
You should remind me again why. And then I have to say that I’m feeling a
little underappreciated for my effort. We should talk about both.” This
would be an example of Louie’s being explicit that there are two important
topics on the table, each needing its own track.
Of course, if Louie (or Kim) had approached the conversation with more
skill, there would be no drama, yelling, or tears. That’s a problem for a TV
sitcom seeking ratings. But a good thing for you and your real relationships.
Summary: SOME KEY IDEAS
We can be triggered by who is giving us the feedback.
What we think about the giver: Are they credible? Do we trust them? Did
they deliver our feedback with good judgment and skill?
How we feel treated by the giver: Do we feel accepted? Appreciated?
Like our autonomy is respected?
Relationship triggers create switchtrack conversations, where we have two topics on the
table and talk past each other.
Spot the two topics and give each its own track.
Surprise players in the feedback game:
Strangers
People we find difficult
People we find difficult see us at our worst and may be especially well placed to be honest
mirrors about areas where we have the most room to grow.
Listen for relationship issues lurking beneath coaching.
6
IDENTIFY THE RELATIONSHIP SYSTEM
Take Three Steps Back
You’re sitting at breakfast with your wife, who is sleep-deprived and
agitated. She’s got some feedback for you: Do something about the snoring.
Don’t try to pin this on the dog. It’s not the TV or the neighbors. “It’s very
simple,” she says. “You snore. I can’t sleep. You’ve got a problem. Fix it.”
You wouldn’t dream of blaming the dog. That’s ridiculous. The real
problem here is your wife. She tells the story this way: “You snore. The
End.” But you know better. Yes, you do snore. But very quietly—so quietly
that it should really have its own word. Normal people are not bothered by
your snoring. Your first wife never noticed it. The problem is that your
current wife is hypersensitive to noise, and particularly when she is feeling
stressed and anxious. With teenagers in the house, who isn’t stressed and
anxious? Yet she refuses to listen to your ideas for how to relax, and she
won’t use the white noise machine you bought her.
The problem is that your wife is too sensitive and stubborn. The End.
WHO IS THE PROBLEM AND WHO NEEDS TO CHANGE?
Feedback is often prompted by a problem: Something isn’t working.
Something isn’t right. Your wife isn’t getting enough sleep. Your boss
claims you’re not pulling your weight on the team. Your relationship with
the customer is strained. The new guy is turning out to be a more irritating
coworker than you’d planned on. Not surprisingly, feedback follows, in one
direction or another.
Nothing wrong with that. When something goes wrong, we need to be
able to talk about it so that we can figure it out and fix it.
But here’s where things get strange. When we are the ones giving the
feedback, we know we are offering “constructive criticism” and helpful
coaching. We’re confident that we’ve correctly identified the cause of the
problem, and we’re stepping up to address it.
Yet when we’re on the receiving end of this kind of feedback, we don’t
hear it as “constructive” anything. We hear it as blame: This is your fault.
You are the problem. You need to change. And that feels incredibly unfair,
because we are not the problem, it is not our fault, at least not only our
fault: If you’d stop being so stubborn and use that white noise machine
there wouldn’t be a problem.
Even for the most thoughtful among us, it’s not easy to put our finger on
exactly why these perspectives feel so different. It has to be more than just a
matter of which side of the feedback conversation we’re on, doesn’t it?
It does. But to see why, we need to understand relationship systems.
SEE THE RELATIONSHIP SYSTEM
A “system” is a set of interacting or interdependent components that forms
a complex whole. Each part in the system influences other parts in the
system; changing one thing has a ripple effect elsewhere. A relationship is a
system, a team is a system, and an organization is a system. The food chain
is an example of part of the ecosystem; the way you and your daughter
communicate almost exclusively via text messaging is part of your current
parent-teenager system.
When something goes wrong in a system, we each see some things the
other doesn’t, and these observations are not randomly distributed between
us. When something goes wrong, I tend to see the things that you did that
led to it, and you tend to see the things I did. You know that I’m snoring,
and I know that you’re sensitive. You know that I missed the deadline, and I
know that you always give me false deadlines (apparently until now).
So you’re blaming me in good faith, and I’m indignant and turn around
and blame you in good faith. We each see, genuinely, what the other is
contributing to the trouble, and we each believe we shouldn’t be taking all
the heat for the problem.
That’s Systems Insight Number Two: Each of us sees only part of the
problem (the part the other person is contributing). Systems Insight Number
One is this: Each of us is part of the problem. Maybe not to the same extent,
but we’re both involved, each affecting the other. If you didn’t snore—or
whatever you want to call it—your wife might be able to sleep. If your wife
were less stressed—or less stubborn—she might be able to sleep. It takes
the two of you being the way you are to create the problem. That’s how
systems work.
A systems view helps us understand what’s producing the frustration or
difficulties or mistakes (and hence prompting the feedback) in the first
place. It helps us identify root causes and the ways everyone in the system
is contributing to the problem. And it explains the contradictory reactions
we have as givers and receivers. Receivers react defensively because they
see clearly the givers contribution to the problem, and givers are surprised
by the receivers defensiveness because the receivers contribution is
obvious to them. And it often appears to each of us that the problem could
be best and most easily solved if the other person changed.
If we’re going to have better conversations about feedback, we need a
better handle on the ways that giver and receiver (and often others) are
contributing to the problem under discussion. This helps us move beyond
blame and defensiveness and toward understanding, and it also produces
more durable solutions. Often when we look at a relationship system, we
discover simple things each of us can change that will have a big impact on
the whole. And that might help everyone get some sleep.
TAKE THREE STEPS BACK
Let’s look at systems from three different vantage points—from close in,
medium range, and wide angle. Each view enables us to see different
patterns and dynamics in our relationship systems.
One Step Back: You + Me Intersections. From here we see the interaction
of you and me as a pair. What is the particular you + me combination
that is creating a problem, and what is each of us contributing to that?
Two Steps Back: Role Clashes. This view expands our perspective to
look at the roles each of us plays on the team, in the organization, or in
the family. Roles are often a crucial but largely invisible reason we
bump into each other.
Three Steps Back: The Big Picture. From this frame of reference we can
view the entire landscape—including other players, structures, and
processes that guide and constrain the choices we each make and the
outcomes we get.
ONE STEP BACK: YOU + ME INTERSECTIONS
Feedback is often expressed as “This is how you are, and that’s the
problem.” But in relationships, “This is how you are” really means “This is
how you are in relationship to how I am.” It’s the combination—the
intersection of our differences—that is often causing the problem.
Your need for downtime on weekends is only a problem in relationship
to my need for your attention and engagement. Your desire to empty Mom’s
house right after the funeral is only a problem in relationship to my desire
to have time to mourn. It is not a problem that you speak only Swedish and
it is not a problem that I speak only English. But together we’re in trouble.
These differences often become dynamic systems, creating downward
spirals of action and reaction. Sandy and Gil have a flash point around
money. Sandy thinks Gil is a cheapskate; Gil thinks Sandy is a spendthrift.
When Sandy and Gil were first married, their differences caused only minor
squabbles. The situation darkened when Gil was laid off, and they
discovered that their ways of coping with money and stress form a perfect
mismatched set. When Sandy is worried, she finds comfort in habit and
small luxuries. She doesn’t indulge a lot these days, but that three-dollar
cappuccino feels to her like a vacation from worry. Gil soothes his anxiety
by keeping track of how much money they have down to the penny, and
finding even symbolic ways to cut back. It helps him feel in control.
Not surprisingly, the two exchange feedback. Gil berates Sandy: “I can’t
understand how you can be so wasteful at exactly the time we’re cutting
back.” And Sandy scolds Gil: “Did you really need to march back to the
supermarket to exchange my Grape-Nuts for the store-brand cereal? You’re
nuts. Is saving thirty-five cents really worth all this tension?”
Each points the finger of blame at the other, and neither sees their own
contribution to the dynamic. At any given moment, the feedback looks like
this:
But over time, there’s a downward spiral. As stress increases, Gil’s urge to
monitor increases, which causes Sandy to crave her small pleasures even
more. So she keeps her Grape-Nuts hidden in the corner cupboard, and
when Gil finds the box he confronts her. Incredulous that she has gone
behind his back, he feels even more out of control, and tries to clamp down
harder. “You’re a spendthrift” turns into “You’re selfish, untrustworthy, and
out of control.” “You’re a cheapskate” turns into “You’re controlling,
irrational, and overreacting.” And each, on the receiving end, dismisses the
others feedback—as just more evidence of the others craziness.
Neither Sandy nor Gil sees the system. From the inside, what we see is the
other person’s behavior and its impact on us. We see ourselves as merely
responding to the problem that the other person is creating.
Intersections—differences in preferences, tendencies, and traits that
cause us to bump into each other—account for a significant proportion of
the friction and feedback in both personal and professional relationships.
Marriage researcher John Gottman reports that 69 percent of the fights
married couples currently have are about the same subjects they were
arguing about five years ago.1 And chances are, they’ll be selecting from
that same menu of arguments five years from now.
Our own preferences, tendencies, and traits can sometimes be outside our
awareness: how we manage uncertainty; how we experience novelty; what
makes us feel safe; what recharges or drains our energy; how we experience
conflict; whether we are detail- or big-picture-oriented, linear or random,
volatile or stable, optimistic or pessimistic. In fact, we may not even realize
that our own tendencies are tendencies until we are in the company of
someone who is different. An American boy laughs when told by a British
girl that he has an “American accent.” Obviously, it’s the Brit who has the
accent.
We also don’t see our own system patterns, although people outside of
them can often spot their contours easily. You are exasperated with your
kids: Why do I have to ask you seven hundred times to get your shoes out of
the middle of the kitchen? Your father-in-law is visiting and offers some
(uninvited) coaching: “You need to follow through. You need to be
consistent.”
This is enough to send you over the edge—you are following through by
asking them 699 more times, after all. Previously, you had been giving up
and moving the shoes yourself.
And yet your father-in-law sees something in your relationship system
with the kids that you don’t see. He sees the progression as you ask nicely,
prod gently, admonish with threats, and finally lose it. And he can see that
your kids have learned that Mom doesn’t actually “mean it” until she yells.
So they ignore you and watch TV while they wait for you to mean it.
Taking one step back means stepping outside your own perspective to
observe the system as your father-in-law does. Instead of focusing on what
the other person is doing wrong, notice what you are each doing in reaction
to the other. As you do, you’ll begin to spot the larger patterns. Continual
pestering, which you thought was the “following through” solution, is
actually reinforcing the problem.2
TWO STEPS BACK: ROLE CLASHES AND ACCIDENTAL ADVERSARIES
The first step back looks at you and the other person, and the way your
tendencies interact and intersect. The second step back adds another layer:
This is not just about you and me, this is also about the roles we play.
Roles are defined by their relationship to other roles. You’re not an older
sibling until you have a younger sibling; you aren’t a mentor until you’ve
got someone to “ment.” Although there are personality-driven aspects to
roles—I’m the funny one, you’re the responsible one—roles have an effect
on behavior that is independent of character. A role is like an ice cube tray
into which you pour your personality. What you pour in matters, but so does
the shape of the tray. Whether I’m musical or tone-deaf, humble or a
braggart, if I am the cop and you are the speeder, things are likely to play
out between us in reasonably predictable ways.
One important role pattern is called “accidental adversaries.”3 If two
people bump into each other enough and cause each other enough
frustration, each will begin considering the other an “adversary.” Each
attributes the problem to the personality and questionable intentions of the
other. But often the true culprit is the structure of the roles they are in,
which are (accidentally) creating chronic conflict. If we are each at one end
of a rope and our job is to pull, then merely doing our jobs creates a tug-of-
war.
The cop and the speeder might have everything in common—they could
be identical twins—but in their interaction at the side of the road, their roles
may create conflict. The same is true of disgruntled customers and customer
reps, stressed teachers and anxious parents, ex-husbands and the new guy.
Accidental adversaries are created by two things: role confusion and role
clarity.
As organizations change and responsibilities shift, roles get messy
quickly. It’s no longer clear where my position ends and yours begins. Ted
asked me for new pricing information, and you jumped in and sent it to him
before I had the chance to respond. Ted asked me because I’m the pricing
guru; Ted didn’t ask you because you are not the pricing guru. Except that
when you tell the story, you are the pricing guru, and I’m the guy Ted asked
by mistake. Could we really be this confused? We could.
It’s impossible to overstate the extent to which role confusion exists,
even in the most well-run organizations. Three of us think we’re in charge
of task A, and none of us thinks we’re in charge of tasks B, C, and D.
Globalization and virtual relationships heighten the challenges, as do
reorgs, mergers, matrixed reporting lines, and every kind of employee
mobility. Yesterday we were peers; today you’re my boss’s boss. Yesterday
we shared a cubicle; today you’re Skyping me from your office in Lisbon.
The permeable boundaries among departments, functions, and business
units contribute to the muddle as well. If I oversee data mining for print
media, why do I keep getting memos from Marketing that Barry is in charge
of data mining across all media platforms, including print, and that any
other reports are considered “unauthorized”?
Sometimes role clashes arise not from confusion but from clarity. The
tension is embedded in the organizational structure itself. Compliance
officers and traders at a bank will often be in conflict, not just because of
rogue traders or overly cautious compliance officers, but because the very
nature of their roles puts them at odds. Other common examples are Sales
and Legal, surgeons and anesthesiologists, architects and engineers, and HR
and everyone. As one HR executive joked, “In HR, we’re not happy until
you’re not happy.”
Of course, everyone knows that the HR function is crucial, but busy
people can still find it intrusive. We’re quick to attribute character as the
cause: Those in HR are compulsive, uptight, and excessively rule-bound.
On the flip side, HR is frustrated by the deadbeats across all functions who
are behind on their time sheets, submit perfunctory performance reviews,
and skip out on mandatory training. Why do so many of our people behave
like flaky, petulant teenagers?
At the organizational level, these role tensions serve important purposes,
but at the interpersonal level they can be destructive, especially if people
are misidentifying the source of the conflict. It’s essential to disentangle the
individual from their role by taking two steps back and asking: How are our
roles contributing to how we see each other, and to the feedback we give
each other? How much is role, and how much is personality or
performance? Even if you don’t have an answer, just asking yourself the
question, or discussing it between you, can shift awareness.
THREE STEPS BACK: THE BIG PICTURE (OTHER PLAYERS, PROCESSES,
POLICIES, AND STRUCTURES)
The third step back enables us to take in the big picture, which includes not
only other players but also the physical environment, timing and decision
making, policies, processes, and workaround coping strategies. All of these
influence behavior and decisions, and the feedback we give one another.
They are part of the system we’re in.
Imagine that a worker is seriously injured working at a refinery, and you
are the safety rep. It’s your job to ensure that such accidents never happen
again. In searching for the cause, a common tendency is to focus only on
the behavior of the injured worker: Was he following protocol? How long
has he been in the job? Was he fatigued or drinking? What did he do
wrong?
Important questions, but you know it’s about more than just this worker.
So you take three steps back to consider the big picture, the whole safety
landscape. If the worker was fatigued, who knew that he had worked a
double shift, and how often do workers operate equipment when overtired?
Who last repaired this piece of machinery, and were there notes on the
repair? Was the supervisor aware that nonstandard parts were used? What
has been the impact of cutbacks in safety training? How does the
performance evaluation system incent, or fail to incent, safe behavior? How
have changes to the work-rest rules influenced fatigue or information
exchange at shift changes?
Three Steps Back: The Big Picture
OTHER PLAYERS
Two senior leaders clash, and team members
beneath them are buffeted by conflicting
instructions. Innovation and risk taking are
inhibited, an us-them attitude takes hold, and an
inordinate amount of time is spent trying to manage
and “work around” the conflict.
Conflicts between two people can profoundly
affect the work patterns and relationships of
others around them. Understanding what’s
going on often necessitates looking at the
broader team, department, or cross-functional
dynamics.
PHYSICAL ENVIRONMENT
The new elevator system is state-of-the-art, but the The physical environment can affect how we
dedication to small clusters of floors means you
only see people you already work with. You haven’t
done more than exchange e-mail with the folks
downstairs in months.
work together. Open office space can
encourage collaboration or chill candid
discussion. Functions that need to work well
together can end up in different buildings or
different hemispheres.
TIMING AND DECISION MAKING
Francie has to put in for vacation time six months
ahead; her brother Finn receives his work schedule
only two weeks in advance. Francie doesn’t
understand why her kid brother can’t get his act
together to commit to the family vacation schedule,
even as an adult.
Differences in structure and timing of
decision making can create problems between
individuals or groups. Some may need to
consult widely and get buy-in from others,
while others can make decisions
independently.
POLICIES AND PROCESSES
Centralizing marketing in London has created a
unified product marketing approach, yet Cambodia
says the new campaign won’t work on the ground.
Centralizing processes creates efficiencies but
makes it more difficult to respond to local
needs.
COPING STRATEGIES
Research is consistently late reporting their
department numbers to Accounting. Accounting
begins to give false deadlines. Research soon
catches on, and now they take Accounting’s
deadlines even less seriously.
Players develop coping strategies for working
with others that they find challenging. The
effects will show up in the second and third
rounds—so-called lag effects.
There’s a balance to be struck. We don’t want to waste time on a fishing
expedition, and it’s tempting to quit looking once we have one compelling
explanation in hand. But we shouldn’t overlook significant inputs and root
causes simply because they are not proximate to the injury in time or place.4
The chart offers some big-picture factors worth watching for.
FEEDBACK THROUGH A SYSTEMS LENS
Let’s step into a second-grade classroom and look at how a systems lens can
help us with feedback and communication.
The second-grade teacher speaks carefully: “Your daughter Kenzie is a
strong personality. She says things that upset other children.” The teacher
sees Kenzie as a good kid, but a bit of a bully. He is hoping that Kenzie’s
mom is able to take the feedback to heart.
Alas, Kenzie is eavesdropping outside the door and bursts in to protest:
“Mom! Those kids are so annoying! They’re the ones who start it! And I
can’t help it if they’re crybabies!” From Kenzie’s point of view, she is not
the problem. She is the victim.
The feedback conversation grinds to a halt. Kenzie feels unfairly
accused, the teacher is exasperated at Kenzie’s unwillingness to take
responsibility, and Kenzie’s mom is unsure whom to believe. Let’s see how
we might be able to better understand the teachers feedback about Kenzie
by looking at what’s going on from each of our three vantage points.
The first step back looks at individual intersections, and we see this: One
difference between Kenzie and some of her classmates is simply inborn.
Kenzie is a bit of a drama queen. Everything is either “amazingly fabulous”
or “horribly catastrophic.” She’s a big personality, and among the eight-
year-old set, a flair for the dramatic wins Kenzie attention.
The second step back looks at roles. Kenzie was the new kid in school
last year, increasing the urgency she felt to find her niche, and also adding a
touch of mystery to her persona. Her “way in” was to entertain, and kids
gravitated to her, eager to hear her rendition of the teachers “oops” moment
in math or her reenactment of the “humiliation” aboard the morning bus.
This encouraged Kenzie to tell even bigger and more exaggerated stories,
and it was soon clear to everyone that she had taken on the role of class
entertainer. Now we’re starting to see the system in motion—Kenzie’s
behavior influences her classmates’ behavior, which in turn influences her.
In contrast to Kenzie, some kids don’t like being the center of attention.
When one accidentally spills paint on Kenzie’s poster in art class, Kenzie
yells, “You are the most horrible person ever!” It’s hard for Kenzie to
understand how upsetting her oversized reaction is to a sensitive child,
because it wouldn’t be so upsetting for her. Other kids are more sympathetic
to the accidental paint spiller. They talk among themselves about Kenzie
being “mean,” and begin to steer clear of her.
So far we have looked at intersections and roles. Let’s take a third step
back for a broader look at what happens next. The friends who stick with
Kenzie are quick to tell her what so-and-so said, or who says they will
never play with Kenzie again. They don’t exactly mean to wind Kenzie up,
but her reaction is so swift and dramatic that it only makes the friendship
that much more exciting. We are on the inside, where the cool people are;
the others are losers and crybabies. Meanwhile, those who empathize with
the quieter kids are thinking this: We have our own group, where the nice
kids are; the others are the bad kids and bullies. From an initial focus on
Kenzie, we can pull back and see that there are cliques forming, and that the
cliques themselves interact and contribute to the system.
Another factor in the broader system is the physical layout of the
playground, which inadvertently reinforces the us-them dynamic. With part
of the school under construction, the playground is left with only two four-
square courts, where the girls often divide into opposing camps. School
policies contribute as well: Whenever there is trouble, the offending student
is sent to the principal’s office, but there is no process for a reconciliation
conversation among students to help them understand and repair
relationships. Discipline is based on identifying and removing a single
actor, and the larger system is left unaddressed.
Seeing Feedback in the System
One Step Back: In what ways does the feedback reflect differences in preferences,
assumptions, styles, or implicit rules between us?
Two Steps Back: Do our roles make it more or less likely that we might bump into each
other?
Three Steps Back: What other players influence our behavior and choices? Are physical
setups, processes, or structures also contributing to the problem?
Circling Back to Me: What am I doing (or failing to do) that is contributing to the dynamic
between us?
From the teachers perspective at the front of the classroom, the
commotion centers on Kenzie. And so Kenzie’s parents are called in for
some feedback on how their daughter needs to change. If they take the
feedback at face value and sit Kenzie down to explain that she needs to be
“nicer and less harsh,” Kenzie will no doubt bristle in protest. Not because
she’s trying to get away with something, but because the real problem, from
where she sits, isn’t only her. Her classmates are crybabies, and also,
apparently, tattletales (tune in tomorrow morning for Kenzie’s lively
reporting on the injustice perpetrated at the mom-teacher meeting).
Certainly, Kenzie needs to understand the impact of her behavior on
other kids, and there are things she does need to change. But she’s not
wrong that there are other people and factors contributing to the problem. If
the teacher and Kenzie’s mom (and even Kenzie herself) are able to discuss
the larger system, Kenzie will feel more fairly treated and may become
more receptive to coaching. And just as important, they may uncover new
strategies for addressing the dynamic. For example, it might be useful for a
number of students from the different cliques to sit down and talk about the
situation. The us-them dynamic could be broken up by pairing kids across
these divides to work on projects together. Or roles might be shuffled.
Kenzie could be assigned the role of making sure the quieter kids are
included in certain activities. And Kenzie’s parents might notice that some
of what she’s been saying are things she’s heard at home, where they often
jokingly take things to an extreme: “You’re the worst!” or “You’re the
best!” Hmm.
THE BENEFITS OF A SYSTEMS LENS
There are a number of advantages to understanding feedback through a
systems lens.
IT’S MORE ACCURATE
The first benefit is simple: It’s reality. Systems thinking corrects for the
skew of any single perspective. If I tend to see what you are contributing to
the problem, and you tend to see what I’m contributing, we can add our two
perspectives together to get a better sense of the whole. As we start to see
how each of us is affecting the other, opposing arrows of causality are
revealed to be circles and cycles.
IT MOVES US AWAY FROM NEEDLESS JUDGMENT
A second benefit is that systems thinking eases the temptation to treat other
people’s contributions to the problem as automatically “bad” or “wrong” or
“blameworthy.” We are the exact normal amount of neurotic or detail
oriented or risk taking. Others are overly neurotic or careless or too
conservative. If we’re not careful, “that thing the guys at Corporate do”
morphs into “those selfish #$%s over in Corporate.” The first is a
description of an action; the second is a blanket judgment of the people. We
are less likely to make that leap from description to damnation if we see the
conflict as a simple intersection, perhaps compounded by clashing roles,
inside a larger system. We are more risk tolerant than they are, and that
makes investment decisions between us tough. It’s harder to demonize the
“other” when we are clear-eyed about our part of the problem and the ways
our interlocking actions and preferences form a cycle. That’s you and your
wife, the snoring and the sensitivity. Neither is “bad.” Together they are
problematic for both of you.
IT ENHANCES ACCOUNTABILITY
Fine, you say, but what about the times the other person’s behavior really is
blameworthy? Your uncle should not have hocked Grandma’s silver, your
neighbors son should not have blown up your mailbox, and the woman in
the next cubicle should not have fabricated those time sheets. Is a so-called
systems approach just a way to dilute or avoid responsibility by shifting the
focus from the individual to the system?
We think it’s the opposite. You can’t take meaningful responsibility for
causing a problem until you understand the combination of factors that
actually caused the problem. A systems approach helps you clarify your
choices and actions, and how they created the outcomes you got. Then
when you say you are accountable, it actually means something.
Of course, a systems approach doesn’t automatically increase
accountability. When a manager says, “One of my new recruits fabricated
time sheets, and we should really have more training and oversight,” it is a
“systems” statement. But it’s only a start. It’s not clear yet whether the
manager is taking any responsibility for what happened, or what he thinks
he—or anyone else—is accountable for.
Meaningful accountability requires the manager to take a more detailed
look at why the employee made the choices she did, and at the role the
manager might have played in that, as well as at the other players, tracking
systems, and training that might have contributed to the time sheet
transgression. For instance, who explained to the recruit how to think about
time spent on various projects, how to account for breaks or travel time?
And is there anything the manager did to put pressure on the recruit to log
extra hours, or did he informally or even unwittingly encourage a culture of
“hard work macho” that set a norm of inflating hours spent?
Understanding that a problem has multiple causes doesn’t limit our
options for how we move forward to solve that problem. Discipline or
punishment may be appropriate, as in cases where actions are illegal,
unethical, inappropriate, or otherwise violate policy. Sometimes managers
will say, “How can I discipline the employee when I myself contributed to
the problem?” That’s like saying, “How can we punish a bank robber when
we at the bank contributed to the problem by having a faulty security
system in place?” Well, it’s not good to have a faulty security system in
place, and if you have one, it’s good to know about it. But the fact that your
security system is faulty has nothing to do with whether the robber should
go to jail.
Of course, understanding the system may change how you see the
problem, and therefore what you think is the best way to address it. If the
employee wasn’t aware of a policy because you didn’t tell them about it,
perhaps you correct the ignorance and issue a warning. That’s different
from an employee who knowingly flouts the policy. A systems approach
helps you get a sense of appropriate action going forward.
IT HELPS CORRECT OUR TENDENCY TO SHIFT OR ABSORB
There are two common feedback profiles that are particularly challenging to
deal with on the topic of accountability: shifters and absorbers. A systems
perspective helps us fight these tendencies in ourselves and understand
them in others as we talk about feedback.
Blame Absorbers: It’s All Me
The first common feedback profile is the blame absorber. When things go
wrong, you point the finger at yourself, now and forever. You cheated on
me? I must not be attractive enough. Our product didn’t sell to
expectations? I screwed up the launch. It’s raining out? Must be something I
said.
In addition to the emotional swamp created by believing everything is
your fault, there are learning drawbacks as well. Carrying all the weight of
fixing relationships and projects by yourself may feel noble, but it obstructs
learning just as surely as rejecting responsibility altogether. Absorbers will
tend to see their own contribution to the problem and stop there. They
quickly accept feedback and cut the conversation short, failing to explore
the intersections, roles, choices, and reactions that created the problem
under discussion.
That launch you screwed up? You flatter yourself when you think you
could have sunk the effort single-handedly. Chances are there were multiple
reasons for the disappointing performance, from concept to time lines to
production to marketing to distribution. If you want the next product rollout
to go better, you can’t expect to fix all these things alone. If you soak up all
the responsibility, you let others off the hook. Responsibility for learning
and fixing the problem is hoarded and the best solutions less likely to
emerge.
Another challenge for absorbers is that resentment can build over time.
Deeper down we know realistically that it’s not all us, yet others don’t seem
to be taking their fair share of responsibility. Absorbers also start to bump
up against what they can change on their own—when others aren’t willing
to look at their part of the problem, there’s only so much one person can do
to affect the system.
It’s also worth noting here that absorbers can be prone to remaining in
situations of abuse. In an emotionally or physically abusive relationship, the
person doing the yelling, denigrating, or lashing out is able to distract
attention from their own hurtful behavior by pointing to what the victim did
to provoke it. The person giving the feedback (“You shouldn’t provoke
me”) might be accurately describing the victim’s part in the system. What
they leave out, of course, is their own behavior, which is hurtful, harmful,
and unfair. This is one reason that such relationships are so lonely, and why
it is so tough to navigate your way out of an abusive relationship system.
The feedback givers claim that the things you see and feel aren’t even there.
Blame Shifters: It’s Not Me
The other feedback profile includes people who are chronically immune to
acknowledging their role in problems. When they get feedback or suffer
failure, they are quick to point to everyone who hindered their efforts or
must be biased against them: It was the finance folks, the new IT system,
the neighbors, that squirrel over there.
You might think this stance would be relaxing; after all, feedback simply
bounces off you and nothing is ever your fault. But the experience is
ultimately exhausting. Shifters find themselves constantly assaulted by
everyone else’s incompetence or treacherousness. They are victims,
powerless to protect themselves. Life happens to them. In fact, life happens
at them.
If my investor pitch didn’t get funded, it must be because the venture
capitalists are fools, the markets are impossible right now, or I’m a genius
ahead of my time. Because I can’t control any of these factors, I feel
victimized, angry, helpless, or depressed. In this frame of mind, there is
nothing I could have done to change the outcome, because the causes are all
external to me. Or so things seem.
A victim stance makes it impossible for feedback to penetrate; I can’t
learn anything that might help my next pitch. Was my market analysis
incomplete? Was I unprepared for questions about competitive products?
Did I ignore early feedback from focus groups that perhaps I should have
heeded? Seeing my own contribution to my circumstances makes me
stronger, not weaker. If I contribute to my own problems, there are things I
have the power to change.
IT HELPS US AVOID “FIXES THAT FAIL”
When we don’t understand the system that produces the feedback, we often
make the mistake of trying to adjust just one component of the system, and
expect that to solve the whole problem. But firing the CEO is on its own
unlikely to change the entire corporate culture, so the problem persists.
Even worse is the fix that actually creates new and unexpected additional
issues.
Alice is frustrated. Her direct report, Benny, is consistently late and over
budget on project delivery, and it’s causing friction with their boss, Vince.
So Alice gives Benny some feedback: “You’ve got to find a way to bring
these projects in on time and on budget.” Alice is clear: Benny needs to
change. Benny gets the message.
What’s not explored is why Benny is late, and what Alice, Vince, and the
board may be doing to contribute to that. Instead the feedback assumes that
this is a Benny Problem; it also (implicitly) assumes that Benny has the
ability to fix it on his own. But Benny can’t remedy it by himself, because
part of the difficulty is that the board keeps changing its mind about what it
wants, Vince fails to convey that message in a timely fashion, and Alice
rarely passes on a clear or complete description of the new parameters.
Also, when Benny warns Alice that these changes will cause delays and
cost more money, Alice doesn’t always get that message back to Vince and
the board.
Because no one is asking the systems question, Benny does what Benny
can do under the circumstances: He starts giving the board budgets that are
twice as high and timelines that are twice as long as he did previously. Now
he comes in under (new) budget and on (new) time.
Is this a fix? In fact, if Benny’s new budgets and new timelines are more
realistic, and if the concern is predictability rather than cost and timeliness,
then the fix succeeds, at least in the short term.
But the story doesn’t stop here, because the longer timelines and bigger
budgets start to have a lag effect on the players in the system. The board
now has twice as much time to change its mind, request added functionality,
and look over Benny’s shoulder at the results. And the larger budgets raise
expectations about what Benny can provide. Soon he is working twice as
hard, juggling more complex requests, and under even more pressure from
Alice and Vince.
When feedback is aimed at just one piece of the larger system, and
doesn’t look at the other contributing factors, we get the Benny Bad
Outcome. How do we get ourselves caught up in fixes that fail? By
focusing on only one player in the system and papering over the real
problem with a solution that is fundamentally unsound. Solutions like
Benny’s may seem like good ideas at the time. We’re often tempted to solve
a short-term problem without taking account of the long-term cost.5
TALKING ABOUT SYSTEMS
Exploring systems skillfully starts with the awareness that what you’re
facing may indeed be a systems problem.
BE ON THE LOOKOUT
Pay attention to your own silent switchtracking reaction to others’
feedback: I’m not the problem! or I could get you better numbers if you
didn’t wait until the last minute to ask for them or I’m only crabby because
you’re always late. These knee-jerk “not my fault!” thoughts are clues that
stepping back to understand the interaction behind the feedback will be
helpful.
TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR YOUR PART
The next step is to be accountable: Figure out your contribution to the
problem and take responsibility for it. Otherwise the giver will hear your
suggestion to look at “our relationship system” as making excuses. They’ll
assume you’re attempting to deflect the feedback and point a finger back at
them. They won’t be interested in your fancy ideas about “systems.” In fact,
avoid phrases like “relationship system” altogether.
In these conversations, there are two big messages you are trying to send:
First, I take responsibility for my part, and second, we are both contributing
to this. It is sometimes hard to send both of those messages in the same
conversation. They are consistent and logical, but to the person giving you
feedback, they can sound contradictory. So think about whether the giver
will be able to hear both messages in one conversation, and if not, start by
taking responsibility, and once that’s settled in, circle back and talk about
your observations about the system and your requests of them.
“HERE’S WHAT WOULD HELP ME CHANGE”
A feedback giver may not be ready or able to acknowledge their
contribution to the problem. They may still be stuck in thinking this
feedback party is all about you.
If that’s the case, there’s still something you can do. Rather than trying to
force them to admit to and take responsibility for their part in the problem,
describe how they could get a better reaction from you. You’re asking them
to change, but you’re casting it (legitimately) in service of helping you
change.
Gil can tell Sandy: “I have the strongest reaction to being surprised,
because it makes me panic about where else you might be spending and not
telling me. I know I’m overreacting sometimes and I’m working on that. It
would help me if you would be willing to be upfront with me about the
Grape-Nuts and the mochaccino ‘mini-vacations,’ and we can budget for
them together.”
LOOK FOR THEMES: IS THIS A ME + EVERYBODY INTERSECTION?
Sometimes the feedback you get is the very direct product of your particular
intersection with this particular person. You sort of mumble and they are
hard of hearing.
But at other times a disturbing consistency surfaces—no matter who you
are in a relationship with, they have the same feedback for you. Your
temper is trying. You rarely call anyone back. You are disorganized,
forgetful, or scattered. Richard’s first girlfriend complained that he was
emotionally distant. Richard chalked it up to his girlfriend’s idiosyncratic
brand of neediness. But when Richard’s next two girlfriends said the same
thing, he started paying attention (a little).
When you first realize that this Me + You intersection is in fact a Me +
Everybody intersection, you might feel a bit disheartened. But there’s good
news here, too. Me + Everybody systems can actually be fairly simple to
change, because when one of you changes (i.e., you), the whole system
improves. And in this case, multiple systems will improve. It’s a rare life
circumstance where so much is within your control.
USE THE SYSTEM TO SUPPORT CHANGE (NOT THWART IT)
Sometimes feedback is simple: Shine your shoes before inspection. Don’t
interrupt. Call your mother more often. These are all behaviors you can
change reasonably easily and to predictably good effect.
At other times change is more complicated. We may both agree that
things would be easier if you were less moody, but another lecture isn’t
going to help.
What’s interesting is that, once we identify the contours of a system, we
can often make useful changes that don’t require that people change their
personalities. We can shift their roles, change the processes we use, or even
change the environment. Would putting Sandy in charge of the budget
change her emotional experience of spending even three dollars? Would
including me in the meeting with the client to discuss my analysis guarantee
I would have it done on time? Would swapping household chores so that
yours are finished in the morning mean that you are more relaxed and less
moody over dinner at night? It’s possible. And that’s what seeing systems
does: It creates possibilities.
Summary: SOME KEY IDEAS
To understand the feedback you get, take three steps back:
One Step Back: You + Me intersections. Are differences between us
creating the friction?
Two Steps Back: Role clashes. Is this partly a result of the roles we play
in the organization or the family?
Three Steps Back: Big picture. Are processes, policies, physical
environment, or other players reinforcing the problem?
Looking at systems:
Reduces judgment
Enhances accountability
Uncovers root causes
Look for patterns in your feedback. Is this a You + Everybody intersection?
Take responsibility for your part.
IDENTITY TRIGGERS
and the challenge of being
ME
Identity Triggers (and the challenge of being ME)
At some level we are always scanning for danger. In the next three chapters we find it.
Feedback can be threatening because it prompts questions about the most challenging
relationship you have: your relationship with yourself. Are you a good person? Do you
deserve your own respect? Can you live with yourself? Forgive yourself?
Interestingly, not everyone reacts to feedback and identity threats in the same way and to
the same degree, or takes the same amount of time to recover. In chapter 7, we take a
quick peek inside the brain to explore why that is. Your particular wiring—how sensitive or
insensitive you are, how quickly you bounce back—influences how you experience both
positive and negative feedback. Understanding your wiring will help you to understand your
own emotional reactions when receiving feedback.
That’s critical, because our feelings influence our thoughts, and the story we tell ourselves
about what the feedback means can become distorted. Chapter 8 looks at five ways to
dismantle these distortions so that you can see the feedback more clearly, at “actual size.”
Once you see the feedback clearly, the next task is to figure out how to square the feedback
with your identity—your self-story about who you are in the world. Where chapter 8
examines how we make sense of, and distort, the feedback, chapter 9 examines how we
make sense of, and distort, our self-image. Our identity can be more and less sturdy, more
and less conducive to learning. In chapter 9, we’ll give you three practices to help you move
from a vulnerable fixed identity to a robust growth identity, which will make it easier for you
to learn from feedback and experience.
7
LEARN HOW WIRING AND TEMPERAMENT
AFFECT YOUR STORY
Krista doesn’t lack self-confidence. She laughs as she recounts this story:
My husband and I spent the first six months of our marriage traveling
the States by car, with “Honk if you support our marriage!” scribbled
in shoe polish on the rear window. People honked and waved like
crazy, and it was exhilarating to be supported by friendly strangers.
When we returned to regular life, my husband cleaned off the window,
but I didn’t notice. So, I’d be doing some dumb move in traffic, pulling
a U-turn. Someone would be honking furiously, and I’d be waving
back with this big grin, saying, “Hey, thanks so much. Thank you! I
love you, too!”
“That’s typical for me,” Krista adds. “I can be oblivious to negative
feedback. When I hear that someone doesn’t like something I did, I
immediately think, Really? But do you know how amazing I am? Honestly,
I’ve got so much self-confidence it’s practically inappropriate.”
Of course Krista’s life has seen its share of rain, and she wasn’t smiling
through it all. But even at her lowest, her upbeat disposition helped to pull
her through: “My first husband and I divorced, and a divorce is a giant
oozing spitball of negative feedback. I questioned everything about myself
—whether anyone could love me, whether I was capable of real love at all.
I went to some dark places, like everyone does.
“But,” she adds, “I didn’t stay very long. I can get from ‘no one will ever
love me’ to ‘that’s ridiculous, lots of people love me’ pretty quickly. Within
a year I was in an awesome relationship with my current husband, driving
around the country getting honks of loving support.”
Alita finds herself at the opposite end of the spectrum. A popular
obstetrician, Alita received feedback from last years patient survey. Her
reviews were glowing, and many patients made special mention of her
attentive approach to their pregnancy questions. But several patients
commented that Alita’s schedule often ran late, and that they resented
having to wait. The comments came down like a sledgehammer. “I was so
disheartened,” Alita says. “I give each patient so much time and care, and
then they turn around and complain. Until I read my feedback I loved my
job. I haven’t felt the same about my practice since.” The envelope with the
most recent patient survey results has been sitting on Alita’s desk for the
past two months—unopened.
For Krista, feedback is like water off a duck’s back, while for Alita, it
penetrates deep into her soul. We each metabolize feedback in our own way.
THE LIBERATION OF HARD WIRING
One reason why Krista and Alita respond so differently to feedback is their
wiring—their built-in neural structures and connections. Our wiring affects
who we are, tilting us toward being anxious or upbeat, shy or outgoing,
sensitive or resilient, and it contributes to how intensely feedback—both
positive and negative—affects us. It influences how high we go, how low
we descend, and how quickly we recover from dread or despair.
This chapter takes a look at our different emotional reactions to feedback
and at the role our wiring plays in that. We’ll also look at how those
emotions influence our thinking, and how our thinking influences our
emotions. Understanding your own wiring and tendencies helps you to
improve your ability to weather the storm of negative feedback—and to dig
yourself out in the morning.
Learning that how you are in the world is due in part to your wiring
might feel discouraging—just one more thing that’s wrong with you, and
one that seems impossible to fix. But it can be freeing, as well. Like your
naturally curly hair, high cheekbones, or flat feet, your wiring is no more
judgment-worthy than whether your second toe is shorter or longer than the
first. If you’ve spent a lifetime being told that you’re either
“hypersensitive” or “totally oblivious,” this is a moment to step back and
say, “Okay, so that’s how I’m built. That’s how I showed up in this world.”
Your reactions are not due to a lack of courage or surplus of self-pity.
This doesn’t absolve you of responsibility for how you are and how you
act. It is simply a true and usefully complicating observation: wiring
matters.1
A BEHIND-THE-SCENES LOOK AT YOURSELF ON FEEDBACK
Our understanding of the brain is under construction. By “our” we mean the
general state of human understanding (not to mention the authors’
understanding). Discoveries in neuroscience pour forth, debates proliferate,
interpretations shift. Writing about neuroscience is a little like leaping from
a moving train: No matter how carefully you time your jump, you’re likely
to get roughed up. Even so, we think it’s useful; dipping into the recent
social science and neuroscience research can help us understand why we
each react to feedback the way we do, and why others react differently.
One of the brain’s primary survival functions is to manage approach and
withdrawal: We tend to move toward things that are pleasurable and away
from things that are painful. Pleasure is a rough proxy for the healthy and
safe; pain is a rough proxy for the unhealthy and dangerous.
But our approach-withdrawal function is too crudely calibrated to
navigate the nuanced worlds of modern work and love. The brain gets
tangled when it encounters short-term pain that is necessary for long-term
gain—that exercising you put off, for instance. And the opposite is also
true: Short-term pleasures that produce long-term pain—as with, say,
recreational drugs or an extramarital affair—also produce confused
approach-withdraw signals (“wine, women, and song” in older days; “sex,
drugs, and rock ’n’ roll” to baby boomers). These brain-life mismatches are
the source of great fascination and endless torment.
What does this have to do with feedback? Like sex, drugs, food, and
exercise, feedback is one of these areas that boggle the brain and muck up
the approach-withdrawal system. Doing what feels good now (finding a
way to make negative feedback stop) may be costly in the long run (you are
left, fired, or simply stagnate). And what is healthy in the long run
(understanding and acting on useful feedback) may feel painful now.
A lot goes on in both your brain and body when you experience mood-
altering feedback, more than anyone yet understands, and certainly more
than we can describe in a short chapter. But for simplicity’s sake, we can
say that your “reaction” to feedback can be thought of as containing three
key variables: Baseline, Swing, and Sustain or Recovery.
“Baseline” refers to the default state of well-being or contentment toward
which you gravitate in the wake of good or bad events in your life. “Swing”
refers to how far up or down you move from your baseline when you
receive feedback. Some of us have extreme reactions to feedback; we swing
wide. Others remain on an even keel even in the face of disquieting news.
“Sustain and Recovery” refers to duration, how long your ups and downs
last. Ideally, we want to sustain a boost from positive feedback and recover
quickly from a negative emotional dip.
1. Baseline: The Beginning and End of the Arc
Whether we feel happy or sad, content or discontent, is not determined
merely by each individual successive moment of life experience—a good
thing happens and I’m happy, a bad thing happens and I’m sad. It doesn’t
work that way. While our experiences affect our mood, we are not blown in
a completely new direction by each gust of wind. We feel emotions in the
moment, of course, but they occur against a broader backdrop.
As humans, we adapt—to new information and events both good and bad
—and gravitate back to our personal default level of well-being.2 There will
be highs and lows, but over time, like water seeking its own level, we are
pulled toward our baseline—back up after bad news and back down after
good. The euphoria of first love fades, and so does the despair of divorce.
This tendency is best seen with little kids and their toy joy: When they get
what they’ve longed for, they believe they will be happy for the rest of their
lives. And for the first few minutes of the rest of their lives, they are. But
then the kids—like adults—adapt.
There is enormous variance among individuals when it comes to
baseline. This is why our uncle Murray seems perpetually dissatisfied with
life, while our aunt Eileen is delighted with everything for no apparent
reason. Happiness is believed to be one of the most highly heritable aspects
of personality. Twin studies have led to estimates that about 50 percent of
the variance among people in their average levels of happiness can be
explained by differences in their genes rather than in their life experiences.3
Famously, studies of lottery winners have shown that a year after claiming
their prize, winners are approximately as happy (or unhappy) as they were
prior to the windfall.4
Why does your baseline matter when it comes to receiving feedback?
First, people who have higher happiness baselines are more likely to
respond positively to positive feedback than people with lower self-reported
well-being. And people with lower general satisfaction respond more
strongly to negative information.5 Krista has a pretty high baseline, so it’s
not surprising that she’d find honks of marital support exhilarating, and
criticism less emotionally “sticky.” Alita likely has a lower general
baseline, so she may get less of a boost from the positive patient ratings,
and be hit harder by the criticism.
This may seem particularly unfair to Alita. After all, she’s the one who
needs to hear the positive feedback and get the emotional boost it offers.
But don’t worry—there are things Alita can do to turn up the volume on the
positives and temper the negatives when receiving tough feedback. For
now, it’s useful simply to be aware that for her, positive feedback may be
muffled and negatives amplified.
2. Swing: How Far Up or Down You Go
Wherever our natural baseline, some of us swing far in either direction,
even when the input is minor, while others live in a narrower emotional
band. These tendencies appear to be present from birth. Some infants are
more sensitive than others and can experience a strong physiological jolt
even from comparatively small inputs—loud noises, novel situations, or
scary drawings, for example.
Of course, newborns aren’t subjected to performance reviews, and
feedback for adults is rarely accompanied by scary drawings. But it turns
out that infants who are what research psychologist Jerome Kagan calls
“high reactive” are more likely than others to grow into adults who are high
reactives. High reactivity in infants can translate into a big swing for adults.
And we can reasonably assume such adults would be likely to be more
sensitive to negative feedback.6 Brain imaging studies suggest that
differences in sensitivity may correlate with anatomical differences as well.
The adults who had low-reactive infant temperaments had greater thickness
in the left orbitofrontal cortex than the high-reactive group while the adults
categorized as high-reactive infants displayed greater thickness in the right
ventromedial prefrontal cortex.7
Whatever is going on inside our cortexes, differences in swing are easy
to observe within our conference rooms. When a client sends the same
critical comments to both Eliza and Jeron, Eliza is frantic with anxiety
while Jeron has no reaction beyond “Well, this means a bit more work.”
Because Eliza and Jeron are teammates, their disparate reactions create
tension. Jeron thinks Eliza is melodramatic and attention-seeking; Eliza
thinks Jeron is in denial about the depth of the problem. Now they have
feedback for each other about how they are each (mis-)handling the
feedback.
Bad Is Stronger Than Good
Whether we are easily swamped or nearly waterproof, there’s one wiring
challenge we all face: Bad is stronger than good. Psychologist Jonathan
Haidt elaborates: “Responses to threats and unpleasantness are faster,
stronger, and harder to inhibit than responses to opportunities and
pleasures.”8 This observation sheds light on an eternal riddle about
feedback: Why do we dwell on the one criticism buried amid four hundred
compliments?
Built into our wiring is a kind of security team that scans for threat.
When it detects danger—real or perceived—the team responds
instantaneously, bypassing our slower, more reflective systems. The
amygdala is a key player. This small, almond-shaped bundle of neurons sits
at the heart of the limbic system—a part of the brain central to processing
emotion. As Haidt explains:
The amygdala has a direct connection to the brainstem that activates
the fight-or-flight response, and if that amygdala finds a pattern that
was part of a previous fear episode . . . it orders the body to red alert.
. . . the brain has no equivalent “green alert” . . . threats get a
shortcut to your panic button, but there is no equivalent alarm system
for positive information. Bad news is emotionally louder than good,
and thus will have bigger impact.
So why are you still obsessing over that oblique comment your mother-in-
law made during an otherwise lovely holiday visit? Because she unwittingly
activated your red alert system—the one that evolved more than 100 million
years ago9 that was later used to detect snakes, saber-toothed tigers, and
other life-threatening creatures that lurk. Long after your mother-in-law has
left, your emotional brain remains ready for her to pounce.
3. Sustain and Recovery: How Long Does the Swing Last?
Whether you swing wide emotionally or barely budge, the last variable is
duration—how long it takes you to return to your baseline. Do you recover
quickly from even the most distressing feedback, or are you brought low for
weeks or months? And how long do you sustain the high of good news?
When a grateful customer e-mails to extol your expertise, do you have a
bounce in your fingertips for the rest of the day? Or just until you read your
next e-mail? Researcher Richard Davidson has found that the amount of
time that we sustain positive emotion, or need to recover from negative
emotion, can differ by as much as 3,000 percent across individuals.10
Surprisingly, negative feedback and positive feedback are mediated by
different parts of the brain; in fact, they appear to be mediated by different
halves of the brain. And those different halves of the brain can be
differently good at their job. This subject gets complicated quickly, but
there are some simple insights that emerge from the research on this front.
Negative Recovery: Righty or Lefty?
It’s crucial to have a red alert system for threats, but due to the high number
of false alarms encountered in everyday life, it’s just as crucial to have a
way to turn the alarm off.
The amygdala is a key player in the alert system, but it’s no lone cowboy.
The frontal cortex runs the show, working to integrate the emotional
response with the actual content of the feedback. The frontal cortex can
contain or intensify the stampedes that the amygdala starts.
Sitting just behind your forehead, your prefrontal cortex is the seat of
higher-order reasoning, judgment, and decision making. Like other parts of
your brain, it is divided in two, with a right and left side. When you
experience negative feelings like fear, anxiety, and disgust, your brain
shows increased activity on the right side. When you experience positive
feelings like amusement, hope, and love, your brain shows increased
activity on the left side. Researchers have termed this the “valence
hypothesis,” suggesting that people who have more activity on the right
side (“cortical righties”) tend to be more depressed and more anxious;
cortical lefties tend to be happier.11 (We shouldn’t overstate current
scientific consensus; this “locational” theory of emotion is not without
controversy.)12
With the help of imaging devices like functional MRIs, which reveal
how the brain responds to particular stimuli, neuroscientists are beginning
to understand how recovery from negative emotion may work. Surprisingly,
it’s the left side—the positive side—that seems to be responsible here.
While the amygdala is fanning the flames of fear and anxiety, activity in the
left side of the brain exerts a calming influence. Strong activity on the left is
associated with quicker recovery from upset.
People who are faster to recover not only have more activity in the left
side; they also tend to have more connections (“white matter” pathways that
connect brain regions to one another) running between the left side of the
prefrontal cortex and the amygdala.13 This appears to create more
bandwidth along which the positive messages can travel to the amygdala.
People with numerous connections effectively have a superhighway to
deliver reassuring signals, while those who are slower to recover have
narrow country roads.
The bottom line is that people whose brain wiring and organization are
more right-sided, or righties, are slower than lefties to recover from
negative feedback. Recovery is slower whether the feedback is small (you
forgot to take out the garbage . . .) or large (. . . and therefore I’m leaving
you).14
If we hooked up Alita to an fMRI while she read the criticism about
keeping patients waiting, we’d likely see activity in her amygdala and right
prefrontal cortex increase. “There’s danger!” yells the amygdala. “It’s a
disaster!” confirms the right prefrontal cortex. In contrast, activity in Alita’s
left prefrontal cortex—the more positive side—would show comparatively
less activity. “Let’s all just calm down. Lots of patients appreciate the time
you spend with them,” says the left, but too faintly to be heard above the
bluster of disaster and doom.
Alita is likely a cortical righty. Compared with a less sensitive colleague,
she’ll feel more physiologically aroused, more anxious, more depressed. It
will be harder for her to find hope or humor (which are mediated more by
the left side) and more difficult for her to calm herself down.
Krista’s fMRI in the same situation would likely show a different pattern.
Initially, she might feel anxious, angry, or hurt (Krista’s amygdala will light
up, too), but her strong left prefrontal cortex will soon kick in, quieting
down the quick emotional response: “Relax, don’t overreact. Most of your
patients love you, and anyway, motherhood is all about learning patience, so
you’re giving them a head start. C’mon, let’s go have some Mexican food.”
While a fast recovery time has real advantages—those who are resilient
are more likely to respond to setbacks with energy and determination and
less likely to suffer from depression—being at the extreme end of this scale
presents its own challenges as far as feedback is concerned. Because
negative feedback has less emotional resonance for Krista, it may not
adequately catch her attention or even stick in memory. She may be
dismissive of suggestions or lack motivation to work on improving. Those
around her may see her as callous to the concerns of others, not because she
doesn’t care, but because she doesn’t always realize how serious their
concerns are. And anyway, she’s moved on.
Sustaining Positive Feelings
Recovery measures how quickly you emerge from the abyss of upsetting
feedback. Sustain measures how long positive feedback has you walking on
air.
What’s going on in the brain that helps us sustain positive feelings? We
need to zoom in on a cluster of neurons inside the ventral striatum called
the nucleus accumbens. This region sits just in front of your temple and is
part of the mesolimbic pathway—sometimes called the “reward pathway”
or “pleasure center”—which is responsible for releasing dopamine, which
in turn prompts feelings of pleasure, desire, and motivation. Connected to
that upbeat left side of the prefrontal cortex, the nucleus accumbens creates
a circuit in which positive experiences trigger a dopamine response, which
triggers more positive feelings, which triggers more dopamine.15
Both Krista and Alita feel an uptick in joy when given a positive boost,
whether it’s a honk of marital support or the cry of a newly delivered baby
boy. But Krista’s nucleus accumbens stays active, continuing to release
dopamine and maintaining the emotional high long after the honk fades. For
Alita, the positive feelings evaporate in minutes.
Just as we can retrigger negative feelings by recalling negative feedback,
we can extend our positive sustain by recalling positive feedback—
replaying that appreciative comment from a customer or reminding
ourselves that no matter what happens at work, we’ve got nine kids who
love us at home. Or perhaps remembering that no matter what happens at
home, our kids aren’t allowed to follow us to work.
Our sustain and recovery tendencies can create virtuous and vicious
cycles. If you find it easier to sustain positive emotion, you can ride the
boosts you get from happy moments large (We landed the account!) and
small (That was a great cup of coffee!). You might reread positive feedback
from your child’s teacher or from a grateful constituent when you need a
reminder that you’re doing something right. Positive feedback sticks, and
helps you turn the corner to recovering your equilibrium. This sense of
control over your emotional state means you feel more confident about your
ability to cope with whatever life throws your way. You will tend to be
optimistic that the future will be bright and confident that regardless, you’ll
manage things well. That’s a pretty good definition of peace of mind.
But when positive sustain is weak, it’s harder to remember what you’re
doing right, and pessimism seems the more realistic outlook. If you’ve been
low and had trouble recovering, you may doubt your ability to pull yourself
up the next time you stumble into a particularly troubling time. This can
produce a challenging combination of pessimism and self-doubt. This is
where baseline, swing, and sustain come full circle and together constitute
what is sometimes referred to as temperament.16
Four Sustain/Recovery Combinations
Krista has both quick recovery and long sustain. Her nature enables her to
bounce back quickly from adversity and to luxuriate in life’s joys. Alita is
the opposite on both fronts; she takes longer to recover from negatives and
has more trouble sustaining positives.
But these aren’t the only two sustain/recovery combinations, because
how long you sustain negative feelings operates independently from how
long you sustain positive ones. From a purely physiological point of view,
there are four combinations of sustain/recover tendencies. The chart below
doesn’t address whether you receive feedback skillfully, or whether you
find it helpful and important to learning. It merely suggests different
variations on how you might experience feedback, given your wiring. It’s
an oversimplification, but the categories are illuminating.
WIRING IS ONLY PART OF THE STORY
The danger when talking about brain wiring and temperament is that we
take our wiring as fixed and assume it is destiny. It’s neither.
There are genetic bases to our temperament; understanding this helps us
understand ourselves, and this offers insight into why others are different
from us. But while aspects of our temperament are inherited, there is ample
evidence that they are not fixed. Practices such as meditation, serving
others, and exercise can raise your baseline over time, and life events that
involve trauma or depression can have a profound impact as well. This
growing understanding of neuroplasticity is a thrilling reminder that even
wiring changes over time in response to our environment and experiences.
THE MAGIC 40
Perhaps more important, our wiring—whether fixed or not—tells only part
of the story. Research suggests a 50-40-10 formula for happiness: About 50
percent of our happiness is wired in. Another 40 percent can be attributed to
how we interpret and respond to what happens to us, and 10 percent is
driven by our circumstances—where we live and with whom, where we
work and with whom, the state of our health, and so forth.17 Whether these
are exactly the right proportions is obviously debatable, but what’s certain
is that there is a lot of room to move in that magic middle of around 40
percent. That’s the piece we have control over—the way we interpret what
happens, the meaning we make, and the stories we tell ourselves.
Indeed, University of Pennsylvania researcher Marty Seligman suggests
that for some people, these interpretations and responses can help turn post-
traumatic stress into post-traumatic growth.18 Our interpretations and
responses to what happens to us—and to the feedback we get—can help
turn upsetting feedback and even failure into learning.
But there’s a catch.
Our emotions have so profound an influence on how we interpret what
happens and the stories we tell about it that, in the wake of upsetting
feedback, our upset itself distorts what we think the feedback means. Our
boss offers us some gentle advice that is as harmless as a kitten. But in the
flush of anxiety, the advice appears to us as threatening as a tiger, poised to
rip us apart.
EMOTIONS DISTORT OUR SENSE OF THE FEEDBACK ITSELF
If we’re going to get better at handling tough feedback, we have to
understand how emotions interact with, and distort, the stories we tell about
what the feedback means. Is it really just a kitten, or is it a tiger? Or is it
something else altogether?
OUR STORIES HAVE AN EMOTIONAL SOUNDTRACK
As we discuss in chapter 3, we don’t live our life in data, but in stories—big
stories, like who we are and what we care about and why we’re here, and
smaller stories, like whether we embarrassed ourselves at the company
picnic last weekend.
And these stories are made not only of thoughts but of feelings. We don’t
experience them as separate. We don’t think: Here’s a thought and here’s a
feeling. At any given moment we have a seamless awareness of our life. It’s
similar to the way a music soundtrack works in a movie. When we’re
absorbed in a good movie, we don’t notice the swell and fade of the
soundtrack. The music adds to the suspense, the excitement, the poignancy
of the plot, yet we are as unaware of the music as we are of the projector.
Most of the time that’s a good thing. A movie is better when we get lost
in it and the same is true in life. When we are at our most engaged, most
creative, and most energized, we achieve that delicious state of
unselfconsciousness called “flow.”19 But when things go wrong, it’s worth
slowing things down to observe the effect our emotions are having on how
we tell the story.
THOUGHTS + FEELINGS = STORY
Someone behind you honks when the light changes. You don’t think: That
person behind me honked. You instantly embellish that thought into a story:
Dude! Obnoxious people like you are what’s wrong with this town these
days.
How you feel in that moment has a big impact on the story you tell
yourself. If you are already in a dark mood, you’ll tell a darker story. If
you’re frustrated, you’ll tell a frustrated story. If you’re sitting at the light
feeling like a loser, and the guy behind you honks, it’s just another example
of you being a loser. You can’t even drive right. That guy sees right into
your sad, incompetent soul. Thanks, pal, but I already know. If you’re
newly in love, you’ll feel patient and generous: Oops, sorry about that, I
was doing a little daydreaming there at the light. But ain’t life grand?
In these examples, the feeling comes first. The feeling colors the story
and influences how we perceive the characters in it. But there’s a second
pattern between thoughts and feelings, and confusingly, it’s just the
opposite: Sometimes the thought is first, and the feelings follow.
For instance, I may have started my journey feeling just fine, but then I
looked at the clock and saw that I might miss my flight. A story unfolds in
my mind about how the rest of the day will play out—I’ll miss my flight by
seconds, I won’t make the meeting this afternoon, my client is going to be
annoyed, my boss will be apoplectic. And now—because of these thoughts
—I’m on edge. In this case, the feelings follow the thoughts.
Jonathan Haidt gives us a glimpse of the biology behind this intertwining
of thoughts and feeling:
Not only does [the amygdala] reach down to the brainstem to trigger
a response to danger but it reaches up to the frontal cortex to change
your thinking. It shifts the entire brain over to a withdrawal
orientation. There is a two-way street between emotions and conscious
thoughts: Thoughts can cause emotions (as when you reflect on a
foolish thing you said), but emotions can also cause thoughts. . . . 20
There’s a key insight that follows from this observation that is relevant for
feedback: If our stories are a result of our feelings plus our thoughts, then
we can change our stories by working to change either our feelings or our
thoughts. So there are two ways in.
HOW FEELINGS EXAGGERATE FEEDBACK
Let’s start by looking at the predictable ways that feelings distort our
stories. Knowing those patterns is crucial to being able to tell a less
distorted story.
When it comes to feedback, strong feelings push us toward extreme
interpretations. One thing becomes everything, now becomes always, partly
becomes entirely, and slightly becomes extremely. Feelings skew our sense
of the past, present, and future. They distort our stories about who we are,
how others see us, and what the consequences of the feedback will be.
Below are three common patterns of distortion.
OUR PAST: THE GOOGLE BIAS
Today’s upsetting feedback can influence the story we tell about yesterday:
Suddenly what comes to mind is all the damning evidence of past failures,
earlier poor choices, and bygone bad behavior.
It’s a little like using Google. If you Google “dictators,” you’re going to
pull up 8.4 million examples that mention dictators. It seems that dictators
are everywhere; you can’t swing a cat without hitting one. But that doesn’t
mean most people are dictators or that most countries are run by dictators.
Filling your head with dictator stories doesn’t mean there are more
dictators, and ignoring dictator stories doesn’t mean there are fewer.
When you feel lousy about yourself, you are effectively Googling
“Things that are wrong with me.” You will pull up 8.4 million examples,
and suddenly you are pathetic. You see “sponsored ads” from your exes,
father, and boss. You can’t recall a single thing you’ve ever done right.
Google search parody designed by Sarah Seminski
We all have our own ways of experiencing these distortions. Marc describes
how the “Google bias” manifests for him:
The feedback could be small, but if I’m feeling vulnerable, it’s as if I
fall through the floor, plunged into the basement where all the things
I’ve ever regretted are collected. It’s as if they are happening all at
once, right now. I feel guilty about the people I’ve hurt and ashamed
of the selfish things I’ve done. When I’m not in the basement I literally
don’t think about it. But when I’m there, it’s the only reality, my
failures surround me, and I can’t believe I was ever happy.
Of course, when you feel good, the Google bias tilts in the other direction,
offering up the successes and the wise and generous choices that have led
inexorably to your bountiful life. You rock and always have. Either way,
when it comes to your stories about yourself, you get what you Google.
OUR PRESENT: NOT ONE THING, EVERYTHING
When we feel happy and healthy, we are able to contain negative feedback
to the topic or trait under scrutiny and to the person doing the “scruting.”
We are hearing the feedback as it was meant. If you are told you sing off
key, you think, Okay, this person thinks I sang that song off key. The
feedback is about singing one song. And it’s from one person.
But if you’re in the grip of strong emotion, negative feedback floods
across boundaries into other areas of your self-image: I sing off key? I can’t
do anything right. We rush from “I have trouble closing certain kinds of
deals” to “I’m no good at my job,” and from “My colleague has a concern”
to “Everybody on the team hates me.”
Flooding can also drown out any positive attributes that might lend
balance to the picture. Whether you sing off key has no bearing on your
long-standing commitment to improving your community’s social services,
your tenacious dedication to your daughter, or the astonishing quality of
your slow-roast short ribs. But when we get flooded, that’s all washed away.
OUR FUTURE: THE FOREVER BIAS AND SNOWBALLING
Feelings affect not only how we recall the past, but how we imagine the
future. When we feel bad, we assume we will always feel bad. You feel
humiliated by the shoddy presentation you gave at the joint venture launch
and assume that you will feel precisely this humiliated up to the moment of
your death.
And perhaps worse, we engage in catastrophic thinking, and our stories
can eventually snowball out of control.21 A specific and contained piece of
feedback steadily turns into an ever more ominous future disaster: “I had
mayonnaise on my cheek during the date” becomes “I will die alone.”
What’s so amazing about these distortions is how real they appear to us
in the moment. Common sense suggests that the bigger the gap between our
thoughts and reality, the more likely we would be to notice that the two are
misaligned. But unless we are consciously looking for it, we can’t see the
gap when we’re in it, so the size is irrelevant.
The strong feelings triggered by feedback can cause us to distort our
thinking about the past, the present, and the future. Learning to regain our
balance so that we can accurately assess the feedback is first a matter of
rewinding our thoughts and straightening them out. Once we’ve gotten the
feedback in realistic perspective, we have a real shot at learning from it.
In the next chapter, “Dismantle Distortions,” we’ll look at strategies for
straightening out distorted thinking, so that we can more accurately assess
the feedback we get.
Summary: SOME KEY IDEAS
Wiring matters.
Baseline, Swing, and Sustain/Recovery vary by as much as 3,000
percent among individuals.
If we have a lower baseline, the volume will be turned down on the
positives, and up on the negatives.
Emotions distort our stories about the feedback itself.
The Google bias magnifies the negatives and collapses the past and the
present.
One thing becomes everything and everyone.
The forever bias makes the future look bleak.
8
DISMANTLE DISTORTIONS
See Feedback at “Actual Size”
One of the biggest blocks to receiving feedback well is that we exaggerate
it. Fueled by emotion, our story about what the feedback says grows so
large and so damning that we are overwhelmed by it. Learning is the least
of our worries; we’re just trying to survive.
In order to understand and assess the feedback, we first have to dismantle
the distortions. This doesn’t mean pretending that negative feedback is
positive or adopting untethered optimism. It means finding ways to turn
down the volume on that ominous soundtrack playing in our minds so that
we can hear the dialogue more clearly.
SETH TAKES A RELAXING VACATION
Seth is a counselor who works with children who have experienced trauma
and loss. He needs to address some performance issues with a supervisee,
and asks his boss to sit in on the conversation. During the meeting Seth is
watching the clock; he’s catching a flight to Atlanta tonight to celebrate his
recently widowed fathers birthday tomorrow. Seth has spent hours
planning the party, and both father and son have been looking forward to
the weekend all month.
Toward the end of the meeting, Seth’s boss suddenly pipes up. He laughs
and says reassuringly to Seth’s supervisee: “Well, we all have trouble with
being organized. I mean, geez, look at Seth!”
It’s a kick in the teeth. Seth has always struggled with being organized
and now here it is, trumpeted by his boss, in front of a subordinate, no less.
He is instantly nauseated and can’t think straight. He looks dumbly at his
supervisee, his face burning. The meeting ends, but Seth has no recollection
of how. Shame and despair darken his thoughts: I’m a complete mess. I’ll
never succeed in this job. My personal life is a mess, too, and no wonder.
Feeling desperate to fix the situation, Seth decides to cancel his trip and
stay the weekend to try to get his life organized. How could he even have
scheduled such a trip? What kind of idiotic judgment was involved in
deciding to jet off across the country to a party?
In the end, Seth goes. Why? Because his plane ticket is nonrefundable,
and wasting money (additional evidence of idiocy) feels even worse than
wasting time. He spends the flight consumed with anxiety.
From sheer exhaustion Seth manages to get a decent night’s sleep, and
the next day he is absorbed by the party preparation and the party itself. He
ends up having a wonderful time. Seth and his father talk wistfully of his
recently departed mom; their conversation stretches deep into the night, and
the time he spends with his father becomes one of Seth’s fondest memories.
He wouldn’t trade it for all the money in the world.
In retrospect, Seth finds his initial reaction to his boss’s comment
incomprehensible. It seems obvious to him now that his boss was merely
trying to use humor—whether joke or jibe—to make a connection with the
supervisee. Seth can’t explain why his boss’s comment set off such an
explosion in his mind.
But we can. Like Alita, Seth is on the sensitive end of the wiring
spectrum. He is easily triggered, and once triggered, his strong feelings
shape and distort the story he tells about what the feedback means. As a
result, he loses his balance. When he eventually regains it, Seth has trouble
figuring out what, if anything, he has learned from the incident. He’s
hesitant to go back to his boss and discuss the matter, because he worries
that he’ll just get triggered again.
FIVE WAYS TO DISMANTLE DISTORTIONS
In order to learn from upsetting feedback, we need strategies to counter the
distortions that we bring to it, whether during the feedback conversation
itself, beforehand (in preparation), or afterward (in reflection). Below are
five strategies that help.
1. BE PREPARED, BE MINDFUL
As Seth’s story illustrates, we don’t always have the chance to prepare for
feedback. Sometimes it calls ahead, other times it just shows up at the door.
Feedback has its own etiquette.
But when we’re able, it’s useful to think in advance about the
conversation—to consider how we will feel and respond if we hear things
that we disagree with or find upsetting. This can give us a preview of our
reactions and allow us to think about issues of identity and well-being while
we are still feeling balanced.
Know Your Feedback Footprint
Each of us has our own set of reactive behaviors in response to criticism,
our own feedback footprint: Bryan blames others; Claire switchtracks; Anu
cries; Alfie apologizes; Mick chatters; Hester goes silent; Fergie agrees
while quietly resolving never to change. Reynolds lawyers up, emotionally
speaking, and Jody becomes awkwardly friendly. And at least sometimes,
Seth panics.
We each have our own personal stages of acceptance and rejection as
well. Some of us kick and claw in the moment but over time come around
to accepting the possibility of change. Others move in the opposite
direction: Initially they assume that everything they’re hearing is valid and
true, but on reflection, they dismiss much of it. Some people postpone
engaging and decide they will figure things out later—and then make sure
never to think about it again. Others obsess over the feedback and stop only
when a new obsession takes hold.
Regardless of whether your reactions are productive or debilitating, it’s
enormously helpful to be aware of your particular patterns. It’s especially
important to figure out how you tend to respond during that first stage—I
run, I fight, I deny, I exaggerate—so that you can recognize your usual
reaction and name it to yourself in the moment. If you name it, you have
some power over it.
Figuring out your patterns is as simple as asking yourself this question:
“How do I typically react?” If you’re like most people, as examples come to
mind, you’ll dismiss each as an exception to how you actually are. But
those exceptions aren’t exceptions: They are how you are. If you’re having
trouble discerning your footprint, ask those around you. As they describe
your defensive behavior, you can notice yourself getting defensive about it.
Then you’ll know.
Inoculate Yourself Against the Worst
Your footprint will show up strongest when the feedback is toughest. If
you’re about to get some news—perhaps you’re awaiting word from
colleges or funders or the Nobel Prize Committee—a useful way to manage
your own tendencies is to imagine that the news is bad. Think through in
advance the worst that could happen, try it on emotionally, and reason
through the possible consequences. If that sounds like advice to be
pessimistic, it’s actually the opposite. It is a reminder that whatever the
outcome, you’ll be able to manage.
This exercise has a few benefits. First, it acts as an inoculation. When
you get inoculated, you receive a tiny bit of the virus, easily handled by
your immune system. If you are then exposed to the real thing, your body
recognizes the threat and knows how to deal with it. In the same way, when
actual bad news arrives you’ll think, Yes, this is what I feared might happen.
I’ve seen this before. I’ll be okay. The feelings that come over you and the
images in your head are a bit more familiar and a bit less shocking.
Second, you can think through in a balanced and unhurried way what the
news might mean for you and what actions you would take if you received
it. If your start-up doesn’t get funded, you’ll regroup and restart the process,
or you’ll go with the scaled-down Plan B. You might talk to people who
have endured similar setbacks. The guy down the street worked for years on
his life’s dream only to have his proposal shot down by every potential
investor he met. Contact that guy and ask him some questions: How did he
survive? What helped? What did he learn? Were there any unexpected
benefits to the rejection? How does he think about it now?
Notice What’s Happening
During the feedback conversation itself, periodically check in on yourself
and slow things down. Self-observation awakens your left prefrontal cortex
—which is where the pleasures associated with learning are located.
Seth has been working to improve his awareness of what’s happening in
the moment: “As quickly as I can, I now think to myself, ‘Okay, this is that
thing I do, that triggered thought pattern I get into, and that sick feeling I
get.’ And that one thought really helps. I’m not fighting or resisting my
thoughts and reactions; I’m just noticing them. Once I think, ‘Yep, this is
the part where I have my overreactions,’ I actually start to calm down.”
2. SEPARATE THE STRANDS: FEELING / STORY / FEEDBACK
As you get better at slowing things down and noticing what’s going on in
your mind and body, you can begin to sort through your reactions. You’ll
get better at distinguishing your emotions from the story you tell about the
feedback, and distinguishing both of these from what the feedback giver
actually said.
Whether you do this sorting during the conversation or on reflection
afterward, “separating the strands” is crucial to winding back the distortions
that creep into your interpretation of the feedback. It’s like separating the
soundtrack from the scene when watching a movie. You are pulling apart
the different threads so that you can see each element more clearly, and
observe how each is affecting the other.
You do this by asking yourself three questions:
What do I feel?
What’s the story I’m telling (and inside that story, what’s the
threat)?
What’s the actual feedback?
What do I feel? As you observe how you feel (or remember how you
felt), try to name the feeling: anxiety, shame, anger, sadness, surprise. Work
hard to notice how the feeling feels—physically—the same way you would
describe the physical symptoms of food poisoning or the flu. Seth
elaborates: “I feel a jolt of adrenaline that is by now very familiar to me. It’s
what I imagine an electric shock feels like. And then I often feel sick to my
stomach and slightly faint. It’s intensely unpleasant.”
What’s the story I’m telling (and inside the story, what’s the threat)? As
you notice your story about what the feedback means, don’t worry about
whether it’s true or false, right or wrong, sensible or crazy; for now, just
listen to it. Pay special attention to the threat. It could be about a bad thing
that might happen as a result of the feedback, or about what this means for
how others see you or how you see yourself. Seth examines his reaction to
his boss’s comment: “I’ve always worried that my boss has a kind of free-
floating disapproval of me. So when he made the ‘disorganized’ comment, I
thought, ‘I knew it!’ and then my thoughts snowballed: ‘This job is the best
opportunity I’ll ever have and I’ve messed it up. I mess up everything and I
can’t stand it.’ So there are a few threats in there: that my boss disapproves
of me, that I will lose my job, that I won’t be able to live with myself.
Ultimately, that I’ll just be unhappy all the time.”
What’s the actual feedback? Our mind takes what was said and
immediately tells a story. It’s important to peel back that story and ask
yourself, what exactly was the feedback? What was said? With Seth, it was
his boss’s single comment about “everyone” being disorganized, including
Seth. Everything else going on in Seth’s mind beyond that was his own
story—his assumptions about what his boss must have meant, his fears
about losing his job, his concern about how he would live with himself.
The point is not that everything we add to the story is wrong. But we
have to be clear about what we’ve added, and be aware of our patterns over
time for the kinds of things we tend to add. Once we see the strands clearly,
we can begin the work of assessing whether our story is reasonably aligned
with the actual feedback, or whether and how it’s distorted.1
Our Stories Shadowbox with the Past
Sometimes the threat in the story is obvious; other times it’s harder to see.
The feedback seems small or inconsequential or there doesn’t seem to be
any threat at all. And yet, on receiving the feedback, we become angry or
despairing.
This happens when today’s little story gets linked to larger stories from
our past.
There’s often a kind of “last straw” dynamic to this. Over the years,
you’ve gotten bits of feedback that have piled up. Each individual piece of
feedback seems like nothing—just another weightless comment—and
you’ve kept it all in proportion. Until now. This most recent bit of feedback
is suddenly, unaccountably, more than you can bear.
Your neighbor complains that you don’t keep your lawn as well
manicured as you should. You snap: “Fine. Don’t look at it.” You storm off
and seethe for the rest of the day.
Why has your neighbors feedback set you off? Because you’ve been
told your whole life that you are slightly oblivious to social norms—that
manners matter, that you should tuck in your shirt, and that you should
wrap your gifts. You usually shrug off such comments; you know in your
heart that you have your priorities straight about what really matters in life.
But this comment was the last straw.
This often happens when we have open wounds. Your colleague suggests
you speak with more authority in meetings, and you flip out. You were
bullied as a kid; you rode the bench on the soccer team because you were
not aggressive enough on the field; your partner broke up with you because
you never seemed to have an opinion. All unrelated life events, but each
aggravates the same wound that never quite healed. On the face of it, your
colleague’s comment was small and contained, and offered with respect and
care. But while the feedback is mild, the wound is deep.
So, are you overreacting to the current feedback? Yes and no. Yes, your
emotional reaction is out of proportion, and when you calm down you will
be able to see that. But it is a reasonable emotional reaction to the pattern
your brain is recognizing; it’s the latest chapter in a long story. And while
your current quarrel is with the wrong person—it’s really with your bully or
your coach or your ex-partner—inside your head it’s all part of the same
frustrating mess.
The goal in untangling the strands of emotion, story, and feedback is to
see what you’ve woven in that does and doesn’t belong there. And the more
clearly you see that, the better able you are to keep the feedback in
perspective.
3. CONTAIN THE STORY
As we try to make sense of the world, there are a number of rules about the
way the world works that we normally (if unconsciously) follow. They’re
like laws of physics for stories. For example, we know:
Time: The present does not change the past. The present
influences, but does not determine, the future.
Specificity: Being lousy at one thing does not make us lousy
at unrelated things. Being lousy at something now doesn’t
mean we will always be lousy at it.
People: If one person doesn’t like us it doesn’t mean that
everyone doesn’t like us. Even a person who doesn’t like us
usually likes some things about us. And people’s views of us
can change over time.
In the wake of strong feelings, these rules are forgotten, and the feedback
expands in all directions. As we saw in chapter 7, each thing becomes
everything, nothing is contained, and we are knocked off balance.
But we can rebuild and reinforce the distinctions that matter. One way to
do that is by noticing which of the above rules your story is violating and
revising your story to be consistent with them. If the feedback is about right
now, am I turning it into always—always was, always will be? If the
feedback is about a specific skill or action, am I turning it into all of my
skills and all of my actions? If it’s from one person, am I imagining that it’s
from everyone?
When you notice that the feedback has stampeded over whatever barriers
should keep it in place, you have to round up the feedback, and drop it back
into the area where it belongs. Below, we offer three useful tools to help
you do that: the Feedback Containment Chart, the Balancing Picture, and
Right Sizing.
Use a Feedback Containment Chart
Filling out a Feedback Containment Chart helps you to see the feedback (so
you don’t deny it), while at the same time helping you to contain it (so you
don’t exaggerate it). Asking, what is this feedback not about? gives you a
structured way of staying balanced.
Feedback Containment Chart
What is this about? What isn’t this about?
Whether this person still loves me. Whether I’m lovable, whether I’ll find love.
Whether I’m as productive as I might be on
the publications front.
Whether I’m a good clinician, a smart colleague, a
valued team member.
Whether my first YouTube video was as
good as I wanted it to be.
Whether I will ever make a video that gets positive
response.
Whether I’m patient with the kids in the
evenings.
Whether my kids know I love them, and whether I’m
patient much of the time.
For example: You apply for your dream job and don’t get it. Your first
thought is: I’ll never get a job I like. Now, break it down into the two
columns in the chart. What is this not about? It doesn’t predict your future.
It doesn’t tell you if you’ll get the next job. It doesn’t say that you will
never work in your chosen field.
As you rope off the things it’s not about, it’s easier to see and learn from
what it is about. Maybe there are qualifications the employer is looking for
that you still don’t have. Or maybe you have them but aren’t presenting
yourself in quite the right way. Figuring out what the feedback is actually
about, and then doing something about it, takes work, but it becomes easier
when you realize that you need to work on one or two discrete things, and
not everything.
Draw the Balancing Picture
You know logically that you are overreacting to one negative student
comment in a series of generally high ratings, but you find it hard on an
emotional level to keep that comment in perspective. It helps to get visual:
You can illustrate the balance as a drawing, a pie chart, a Post-it collage on
your bathroom mirror, a macaroni sculpture.
Below, we see how Alita and Krista choose to depict balance. When
Alita draws a representation of the range of patient feedback, she’s shocked
at how different the balance of positives and negatives feels when rendered
this way. Krista’s task, in contrast, is to remind herself that she’s gotten
feedback at all.
When you visualize the feedback in these ways, you literally see the
proportions rather than just intuiting them. Your drawing is not some final
“truth” about the feedback. But seeing it in front of you, looking so
different from how it feels, helps you loosen up your story, and let go of
exaggerated conclusions or unfounded fears.
Right-Size the Future Consequences
Feedback is not just about how you see yourself; it often involves real-
world consequences. If you fail your pilot’s license test, it’s not just a blow
to your self-confidence; it prevents you from flying. When that guy you like
shows up at the holiday party with his new special someone, you might feel
bad about yourself—but also, you won’t be kissing that guy anytime soon.
And getting a poor evaluation at work is not just about your performance,
it’s about your paycheck. If you didn’t get a raise, that’s not a “distortion” in
your thinking. There’s a dollar amount printed right there on your check. It
seems that in regard to the consequences of feedback, there isn’t much play
in the joints.
But there is. While consequences are “objective,” we still have our story
about what the consequences mean, and this is where distortions and
assumptions creep in. If you decide that not getting a raise means you’re a
“failure,” well, that’s a ridiculously broad conclusion to draw from the
circumstance.
In addition, when in the grip of upsetting feedback, we often fail to
distinguish between consequences that will happen and consequences that
might happen. Your boss was clear that you’re not getting a pay raise. But
having your spouse leave you because you didn’t get that pay raise is only
something that might happen (and presumably the chances are small). Yet in
the moment of receiving the bad news, the chances don’t feel small. So you
worry about it as if it will happen. We all do this on occasion—as if we
didn’t have enough to worry about already.
As Harvard psychologist Daniel Gilbert notes in Stumbling on
Happiness, “[w]hen people are asked to predict how they’ll feel if they lose
a job or a romantic partner . . . they consistently overestimate how awful
they’ll feel and how long they’ll feel awful.”2 And that’s further
compounded by our tendency to underestimate how resilient we are likely
to be in the face of actual loss.
Let’s take an example: Recently retired, you’ve just been diagnosed with
severe arthritis in your shoulder. You can no longer swim, and this is no
small matter. Until the arthritis, your daily swimming regimen was your big
hobby and a great source of joy. So the diagnosis is terribly disappointing,
and apparently there’s nothing you can do about it. The consequences are
what they are: no more swimming.
When you imagine what all this will mean for you, you picture your
future life as being the same as your current life, except that where once
there was swimming, there’s now a gaping hole. What will you do for fun,
exercise, and community? You assume the answer is, you will do nothing.
But that’s unlikely. Something will replace swimming, and whatever it is
will serve many of the same purposes that swimming served.
In fact, ten years ago you hurt your lower back, which ruled out playing
tennis. At the time, tennis was your greatest love and you despaired of ever
finding something as healthy and fulfilling. And then you started
swimming.
So when we think about the consequences of feedback, the goal is not to
dismiss them or pretend they don’t matter. The goal is to right-size them, to
develop a realistic and healthy sense of what might happen and respond in
line with these reasonable possibilities. After all, our predictions about life
are just predictions, and they are often just plain wrong.
4. CHANGE YOUR VANTAGE POINT
Anything that helps you see a dark situation from a different point of view
is beneficial. Here are a few ways to step outside your default perspective.
Imagine You’re an Observer
Feedback packs an emotional punch because it’s about you. If the exact
same feedback were directed at, say, your sister, you might be able to
explain to her that it is not so terribly serious and offer her advice on how to
cope. Not just because you’re trying to be helpful, but because from your
perspective, she really is overreacting: “Mom said that to you? It means
nothing. That’s how she is these days. Why do you even care? You’re an
adult!”
Exactly. But if Mom had directed that comment at you, well, that would
be different. You’d begin to wonder, Why would Mom say that? Is she upset
with me? Maybe she’s disappointed with how my life has turned out. Does
she still love me? Did she ever love me? When you share your fears with
your sister, she’s incredulous: “What?! That one stupid comment is still
bugging you? Why are you worrying about that? It meant nothing. That’s
how she is these days, and anyway, you’re an adult!”
We can use this difference between being the object and the observer to
our advantage. When we get feedback—when we are the object—we can
imagine how we might react if instead we were the friend, the sibling, the
observer. Try it as a thought experiment. You’ll be surprised by how
dramatic the difference in perspective is—even when you know it’s just a
thought experiment. Once you’ve shifted perspectives in this way, you can
take your own advice. Why are you still thinking about that comment your
mom made? That’s just how she is now.
Of course, you can also solicit actual advice from a friend. That
disturbing e-mail from your colleague? Show it to your friend and see if it
sounds as damning to them as it does to you. Are you giving it too much
weight? Too little? Some friends are better than others at offering this kind
of support, but anyone who’s not you is a good start.
Look Back from the Future
Try looking back on your life from the vantage point of ten or twenty or
forty years from now. Ask yourself how significant today’s events are likely
to seem in the grand scheme of things. You might still find the current
feedback challenging or the news regrettable, but in your final days, you’re
much more likely to regret the time you spent fretting. Today feels big right
now, but from the perspective of many days hence, it will look pretty small.
Cast the Comedy
It’s been said that comedy is tragedy plus time. The sooner you adopt that
viewpoint, the better. Humor—even or especially gallows humor—offers a
release from the emotional tension of a miserable moment, inviting you to
see yourself and your life as an amusing play, with the usual array of
hapless characters and interesting plot twists. If you can see humor in the
situation, it means you’re succeeding in gaining perspective.
The ability to laugh at yourself is also an indicator that you are ready and
able to take feedback. Laughing at yourself requires you to loosen your grip
on your identity. You have to align yourself with the world and to let go of
trying to align the world to you. Your friend points out that the e-mail you
sent him correcting his grammar had spelling mistakes. Your first instinct is
to defend yourself: “Well, I was rushed when I sent you that e-mail.
Obviously I know how to spell those words.” But notice what happens
when you think about it this way: Ha! You got me. It takes so much less
energy.
Humor forces your brain to shift into a different emotional state. It taps
that positive left side of your prefrontal cortex, where amusement lives.
When you think something is funny, you are helping to disrupt the panic
and anxiety that are taking hold, and to calm down those upsetting signals.
Juliet, emotionally wrung out, puts down her wineglass and smiles.
“So . . . boy meets girl. Boy deceives, betrays, and dumps girl. Girl will
never date another bad boy because she has finally learned her lesson. Wait,
who’s that super-hot drummer over there?”
At least that names the problem.
5. ACCEPT THAT YOU CAN’T CONTROL HOW OTHERS SEE YOU
How others see us and how we see ourselves are inevitably intertwined. We
need others—their perspective on us—in order to see ourselves clearly.
Their view may be only one piece of the puzzle, but it’s an important piece.
It’s like the horseradish in the cocktail sauce: You don’t want to eat the
horseradish alone, but the sauce won’t taste right without it.
So understandably, we care how others see us. But at the end of the day,
we have to accept the fact that how others see us is something we can’t
control. Others’ views of you may be incomplete, outdated, unfair, and
based on absolutely nothing. Or most annoying, they may be claiming
something about you that is actually true only about them. I’m nasty and
self-serving? Really? You’re the one who’s nasty and self-serving! In one
stroke, you are falsely accused and they are falsely exonerated.
We can become obsessed with the desire to get others to admit they are
wrong and to change their views about us. How can we accomplish this?
We can’t. No matter how wrong and unfair their view of you might be, you
can’t control what others think. You love watching football because of the
chesslike intricacies of the strategy involved, but your coworker insists it’s
your adolescent attempt to mask your insecure masculinity. You figure that
if anyone would know why you like football or whether you feel secure
about your masculinity, it would be you. But your coworker is equally sure
that she’s the authority on these particular subjects.
You can discuss it; you can offer counterexamples, supporting evidence,
and notarized statements from your therapist or your dad or the pope. But
you can’t make her think something different about you. Maybe she will
and maybe she won’t.
The good news is that others aren’t actually spending as much time
thinking about you as you might imagine. Most people are simply too
obsessed with themselves to be obsessed with you. So while you’re sitting
at home trying to figure out how your ex-spouse could be so horribly wrong
about the kind of person you are, your ex-spouse is sitting at home
watching Luke on America’s Got Talent. Sure, she once called you a
pathetic excuse for a human being, and she may still think that. But she’s
not dwelling on the matter.3 And neither should you.
Have Compassion for Them
When someone levels an unfair attack at you or has spent a lifetime
withholding approval, compassion is not the first response that comes to
mind. And yet empathy can have a profound effect on how we see another
person and hear their feedback. When your dad yet again fails to register
any appreciation for an accomplishment that means a lot to you, remind
yourself what his dad must have been like. Better still, think about your dad
as the wounded little boy he must have been, and give that little boy a hug.
Speaking of little boys, when yours gets off the bus crying because a kid
called him stupid, don’t tell him he’s not. That’s just asking him to choose
between your story and the mean kid’s story. Help him find his own story in
which to stand. Help him think through the actual evidence, what might be
going on with the other kid, and what is actually true. If he can see for
himself that he’s not stupid, then he’ll see that someone else’s saying so
doesn’t make it so.
So don’t dismiss others’ views of you, but don’t accept them wholesale
either. Their views are input, not imprint.
WHEN LIFE COMES DOWN HARD
Okay, book, I’ve tried some of the things you’re talking about here,
and they’re not helping. I’m not just upset and worried. I’m depressed
and afraid—and it’s worse than you know.
Well put. Us too, sometimes.
DROWNING
If we were designing a human learning system from scratch, we might be
inclined to eliminate the most painful feelings. Let the toddler stumble and
the teenager fumble, but don’t let it hurt when they do. Your spouse leaves?
Do a quick exit interview to find out how you can improve, buy yourself a
killer pair of shoes, and head out on the town that very evening in search of
your next exciting partner.
Of course, we’re not built that way, not even close. And often enough we
wonder: Do these strong negative emotions serve any useful purpose in our
lives?
Sometimes they do. Emotional distress can send us under the covers for
weeks, but it can also cause us—force us—to reevaluate ourselves and our
lives in ways that we otherwise simply would not. Strong negative emotions
can keep us in a rut, but they can also help us break out of one. In fact, we
often learn the most from the feedback that in the moment is the most
distressing.
But for some of us, that distress turns into long-term anxiety or despair,
and we can become depressed, nonfunctioning, or suicidal. All those
distortions that Google our problems and make it appear that things will
never get better settle in for an extended stay. From the outside we look
fine, and so we get well-meaning advice from friends about maintaining a
good attitude, looking on the bright side, and staying active. But when we
are really struggling, that sort of counsel is as useless as yelling “just float!”
to someone who is drowning.
It is true that studies show that most people who experience trauma (for
example) come out the other end intact, and in fact, some percentage
experience post-traumatic growth. That should give people who have
experienced trauma a clear, empirical reason to be optimistic, and it tells the
rest of us that we need not be quite so fearful of the bad things that might
happen to us.
But if we’re not okay, then we’re not. Some combination of
predisposition and experience has broken us, and no matter how hard we
work to keep the feedback balanced and contained, it just isn’t helping.
When you are at your lowest, solace may come in the form of friends,
family, community, or God. You may find relief in medication, therapy, or
hospitalization. Exercise and meditation often do help, as does devoting
your time and energy toward something larger than yourself.
We are proponents of all of these.
ASK FOR SUPPORT
Often the first step is reaching out and asking for help. That takes humility
and courage. You might think those around you should know you’re having
trouble, but they may not. You might have to say the words: I need help. I
need you to be supportive right now.
Ask those around you to be supportive mirrors. They can see that you’re
still lovable, and that what you’re going through now isn’t the whole story
about you. They can see beyond the current pain to the place where things
will get better. Their picture of you is clear-eyed and balanced, not distorted
by the anxiety or shame or depression that clouds your own view.
Have faith in them. When that ex-spouse shows up at your door with an
unflattering portrait she painted of you, supportive mirrors will stop you
from hanging it over the fireplace in your living room. When your boss
recommends that you have the words “I’m incompetent” tattooed to your
forehead, they’ll gently steer you away from the tattoo parlor.
If you can’t find self-acceptance right now, get self-acceptance by proxy.
Allow your mirrors to cast your vote for you. And allow them to help you
find ways to make meaning out of the pain you’re experiencing by doing
something useful with it in the next chapter of your life. That’s the subject
of the next chapter of this book.
Summary: SOME KEY IDEAS
Before we can decide what we think of the feedback we get, we need to remove the
distortions:
Be prepared, be mindful — recognize your feedback footprint.
Separate the strands — of feeling / story / feedback.
Contain the story — what is this about and what isn’t it about?
Change your vantage point — to another, to the future, to the comedy.
Accept that you can’t control how others see you.
Don’t buy their story about you wholesale.
Others’ views of you are input, not imprint.
Reach out to supportive mirrors who can help you see yourself with compassion and
balance.
9
CULTIVATE A GROWTH IDENTITY
Sort Toward Coaching
In chapter 7, we looked at how our wiring affects how we react to both
positive and negative feedback, and how our emotional reactions affect our
ability to see the feedback clearly. Whether we’re elated or despairing, our
emotions can warp our perception of the feedback as surely as a fun house
mirror. In chapter 8, we talked about how to straighten out the feedback so
that you can understand it in perspective.
But even “actual size” feedback can destabilize our sense of ourselves.
Feedback can contradict or undermine the story we tell about who we are,
or it can confirm our worst fears about ourselves. Learning profitably from
feedback is not only about how we interpret the feedback; it’s also about
how we hold our identity. In this chapter we’ll examine how to build an
identity that is robust, not brittle, feedback friendly rather than feedback
averse.
FEEDBACK CAN ROCK OUR SENSE OF SELF
Visiting Mom in the facility was always heartbreaking. Saying good- bye at
the end of each visit and walking away as she watched on, sad and
confused, was almost more than you could bear.
After your mothers dementia diagnosis, your dad cared for her, and you
helped out as much as possible. But as incontinence set in and the falls grew
more frequent, you found yourself lying awake nights sick with worry. The
toll on your father was becoming intolerable, and the risk of something
tragic happening only increasing. Eventually you helped talk your father
into putting your mom in a full-time care facility, for her safety as much as
for your dad’s sanity. It was the right thing to do. Wasn’t it?
Not according to your mothers best friend, Rita, who told your father
that she will never speak to either of you again. When you hear this, you are
filled with shame.
IDENTITY: OUR SELF-STORY
Identity is the story we tell ourselves about ourselves—what we’re like,
what we stand for, what we’re good at, what we’re capable of. I’m a strong
leader; I’m an involved grandmother; I’m rational; I’m passionate; I’m
always fair.1 When feedback contradicts or challenges our identity, our story
about who we are can unravel.
You see yourself as smart, hardworking, and politically savvy. But
after ten years of focused pursuit, you’ve just been denied tenure. Now
who are you? And now what?
Nothing is more important to you than being a good son. Rita’s
condemnation slices through you like a white-hot knife, cutting deep
into your sense of self.
Your husband delivers an ultimatum—it’s me or the dog. You are
confused to realize you prefer the dog. Does that make you a bad
person?
It’s not just big, important feedback that can knock us sideways. The
everyday stuff can trip identity as well: Your best buddy gives his playoff
tickets to someone else. The customer you helped out for an hour yesterday
called back today and requested to speak to another representative. Even
positive feedback can be disorienting: You were comfortable with the image
of yourself as the “starving artist.” With the sudden acclaim for your latest
work, you wonder whether you’ve become a sellout.
We can even be triggered by information that isn’t about us. The girl you
used to work the register with at KFC was named head of NASA and your
nursery school nemesis just announced he’s taking his company public. You
feel happy enough for them, yet somehow worse about yourself. Because
identity stories are influenced by how we are doing relative to those around
us, our peers become the yardsticks we use to gauge how we measure up.2
IS YOUR IDENTITY BRITTLE OR ROBUST?
Imagine two people with similar natural abilities, life experiences, and brain
wiring. You might assume that their identities, and ability to absorb
feedback without losing balance, would be about the same.
And they might be. But not necessarily. Our ability to metabolize
challenging feedback is driven by the particular way we tell our identity
story. Some people tell their identity story in ways that cause their identity
to be brittle, while others tell their identity story in ways that allow it to be
robust. Those in the latter group are predisposed to treat feedback not as a
threat to who they are, but as a core aspect of who they are.
There is good news in this: While some of us do it naturally, we can all
learn to hold our identity in ways that make us more resilient. We can’t
control the feedback life throws at us, but we can make some specific shifts
in assumptions that can improve our ability to take it in, stay balanced, and
learn from it. Two shifts are crucial. We need to:
(1) Give up simple identity labels and cultivate complexity; and
(2) Move from a fixed mindset to a growth mindset.
We’ll look at each of these in turn, and then give you three practices that
can help you make these shifts amid the business and busyness of everyday
life.
GIVE UP SIMPLE LABELS AND CULTIVATE COMPLEXITY
While our identities are built from the endless complexity of our life
experiences, we tend to hold these identities as simple labels such as I’m
competent, I’m good, I’m worthy of love. These labels serve an important
function: Life can be messy and confusing, and simple identity labels
remind us of our values and priorities, of what we’re trying to live up to. If
I’m a man of my word, well, that settles it. I may be tempted to break my
commitment, and I can even justify doing so . . . but that’s not who I am.
Yet simple labels also present a problem. They are simple because they
are “all or nothing.” That works fine when we’re “all.” But when we get
feedback that we are not all, we hear it as feedback that we are nothing.
There’s no “partly all” or “sometimes all,” or “all, except for . . .” If we’re
not good, we’re bad; if we’re not smart, we’re stupid; if not a saint, then a
sinner.
No wonder feedback feels so threatening and we are so easily knocked
over. We’ve set ourselves up with identity stories that operate like a light
switch, and even minor feedback can flip that switch. If we’re not ablaze in
glory, we’re lost in the dark.
KEEP IT OUT OR LET IT IN?
When all-or-nothing identities bump up against negative feedback, they are
often overturned: The feedback becomes headline news in the latest issue of
The Daily Me: “Hardworking Academic” becomes “Fool Who Wasted
Years Chasing Tenure.” “Good Son” gets replaced by “Heartless Child Fails
Mother.” The feedback is the headline in our identity story, and all the other
things we know about ourselves get shoved to the back page. And in this
way, the feedback gets exaggerated.
In our struggle to cope, we spot the other choice: Keep the feedback out.
If we can figure out why the feedback is flawed or off base, if we can do
some skillful wrong spotting, then we can “deny” the feedback and preserve
our current sense of self. We’re safe. We’re still “all.” Our identity story
remains intact.
All-or-nothing identities present us with this choice: Either we can
exaggerate the feedback, or we can deny it. And often, we end up toggling
between the two. We shift back and forth between accepting and rejecting,
but find no stable place to land. (“If I accept this feedback, it means I’m a
bad person. Maybe I am. But that can’t be right. I’m going to reject this
feedback. But why would they say it if it weren’t true? Maybe it is right.
But I know myself better than they do, and if it were true, it would just be
too upsetting, so it can’t be true. On the other hand . . .”) And on we go,
flipping like a fish on the deck of a boat.
Neither choice feels right because neither choice is right. The answer
doesn’t lie in finding just the right way to jerry-rig the balance between
exaggeration and denial. The answer lies in how we hold our identity in the
first place.
EMBRACE IDENTITY NUANCE
So, while simple labels help orient us in the world, they don’t hold up well
against the complexity of the world. You’re a man of your word, but what if
your choice is between keeping your word to your supervisor and keeping
your word to your stepson? Or maybe you see yourself as “fair,” and fair is
fair, right? But what seemed fair last week suddenly seems less fair now
that you’ve talked to others who are affected by your choice.
So the simple labels are too black-and-white to be the whole story about
who you are. You are someone who cares deeply about being trustworthy or
fair or responsible, and there are a thousand examples of your being each of
these. And some examples of your falling short. That’s reality.
Your mom died about six months after the placement in the full-time care
facility, and you still struggle with whether the decision was the right one.
You had good reasons to suggest the move to your dad. At times you can’t
conceive of any other way it could have gone, while at others, you think it
was a grave moral lapse, the worst thing you’ve ever been involved in. In
your mind, you juxtapose images of your mom’s being there for you
throughout your life with her bewildered expression as you leave the
facility. Maybe you could have moved home to help, or brought your
mother to your place and hired a full-time nurse. People do that. Why didn’t
you?
Here’s the bottom line: As long as you tell your self-story in these black-
and-white terms, you will find no peace. You can’t choose between whether
you’re a good person or a bad person. Whichever you select, there is
evidence for the opposite conclusion.
It wasn’t a Disney movie. No fairy godmother or flock of bluebirds was
going to come along with stardust and wand-waving solutions. It was
complicated, and your feelings about it complicated. You were trying to
figure things out for your mom, and also trying to support your father. You
wanted your mother to be surrounded by love, but you also wanted her to be
safe and taken care of. You were trying to figure out how to do right for
each of your parents in the face of a hundred unknowns.
There are some things about how you handled the situation that you’re
proud of. You saw your mother almost every day. You made her photo
books about her life, filled with pictures of the early days—the ones she
could still remember. And there are some things you are less proud of—
opportunities missed, flashes of impatience. Your father probably didn’t get
enough of your time and attention. And certainly it took a toll on your own
family in those final months.
As your story of the situation and yourself becomes more nuanced, you
wonder whether there is something to learn in Rita’s view. You get up the
courage to call her, and she agrees to talk. She tells you how she feels, and
you understand. You tell her how you feel, and she doesn’t. Rita has some
implicit rules about these things—rules you probably shared yourself until
you’d been through the experience with your mother.
Rita insists your behavior was selfish, and that may be where you learn
the most. You don’t know if “selfish” is the right word, but self-interest was
certainly involved. By placing her in a facility, you no longer had to worry
about your mom’s falling; you didn’t have to clean up accidents, or worry
that she wasn’t eating enough. You didn’t have to be concerned about your
father collapsing from the stress of caretaking. The idea that self-interest
was involved in your decision clashes with a core part of your identity, to be
sure. You always saw yourself as someone who would do anything for those
you love. But now you recognize it’s not that simple.
With this acceptance comes sadness, but also a kind of balance.
THREE THINGS TO ACCEPT ABOUT YOURSELF
The sadness and the balance. That’s not unusual. There are things about
ourselves that are hard to accept, but when we do, we’re more grounded.
Tough feedback is less likely to knock us over; we can take it in as being at
least part of the story.
No one is perfect, and all things being equal, it’s better not to believe you
are—not just because it makes you less likable at parties, but also because it
makes it harder for you to learn from feedback. In Difficult Conversations
we offered three things to accept about yourself, and we include them here:
You will make mistakes, you have complex intentions, and you have
contributed to the problem. Accepting these is a lifelong project, but
working on them makes hard feedback easier to take in.
You Will Make Mistakes
If you have any doubts about this, just ask your spouse. In fact, your
particular spouse may be all the proof you need.
This is not the first you’ve heard that people make mistakes—even
brilliant, generous, otherwise awesome people. But it’s an easy truth to
forget when someone is pointing out a specific mistake we have made. If
you think that that would be precisely the easiest time to remember it, you’d
be mistaken. When a mistake is pointed out to us, our first instinct is to
defend ourselves or explain it away. Mistake? Not mine, not at all. I was
given the wrong date for that meeting, and anyway, I had decided I didn’t
need to attend.
Accepting the fact that you will make mistakes takes some of the
pressure off. Any given mistake may still have the capacity to shock and
dismay you, and the degree to which it highlights your blockheadedness is
unfortunate. But you can be confident that people make mistakes like these,
and that some of those people are you.
You Have Complex Intentions
This observation gets less airplay than the one about mistakes, although it’s
probably even harder to accept. Mixed in with our positive intentions are
less noble ones—we can be self-promoting, vengeful, shallow, vain, greedy.
We get tired and cut corners. We try not to lie, but forgive ourselves for
occasionally landing just shy of the full truth.
When we receive negative feedback about our intentions, without
exception we take exception. We had good intentions. We know we had
good intentions because that’s what good people have. We kept that
assignment for ourselves because we were the best person for it. The fact
that we’ve always wanted to go to Hawaii had nothing to do with it.
Pursuing a certain amount of self-interest is a requirement of being alive,
and occasionally that self-interest will conflict with someone else’s self-
interest, and occasionally that will be pointed out to you. It may be hard to
see or hard to admit. You shouldn’t stop striving to improve, but accepting
what “is” can be an enormous relief.
You Have Contributed to the Problem
It’s easy to do relationship math such that we are the wronged party in the
equation. And when we’re the wronged party, we don’t have to bother
listening to feedback. You e-mailed the wrong documents, and now
somehow you’ve got feedback for me? I don’t think so. When you attached
the wrong documents, you earned yourself a lifetime membership in my “I-
don’t-have-to-take-feedback-from-you-about-this-problem club.”
Of course, that math doesn’t usually add up. As we saw in chapter 6, in
most situations we’ve both contributed to the problem. We’ve each done or
failed to do things that got us into this mess. If we are going to learn from
the experience and address the problem, we have to look at the whole
picture. Which means we’ve got to close down the no-feedback club. Just
because we have feedback for them (“Send the right documents”) doesn’t
mean they don’t have feedback for us (“Don’t tell me ‘the attachments look
good’ if you haven’t even looked at them”).
Accepting that we’re not perfect also means giving up the idea that being
perfect is a viable way to escape negative feedback.3 It’s a seductive
thought, but it doesn’t work; you can’t behave your way out of ever
receiving feedback. You can’t outrun it, and you will collapse trying.
Accepting imperfection is not just a good idea, it’s the only choice.
YOU’VE BEEN COMPLICATED ALL ALONG
The first step, then, in keeping or regaining balance and improving your
odds of learning from feedback is to recognize that your identity label is a
simplification. You can more easily metabolize tough feedback when you
move away from the all-or-nothing instinct. You aren’t going from good to
bad, or even from good to complicated. You’ve been complicated all along.
SHIFT FROM A FIXED MINDSET TO A GROWTH MINDSET
Now that you’ve gotten out of the simple label business, let’s take a look at
another aspect of how you hold your identity: Do you consider your traits
and abilities fixed and finished? Or are they always evolving and capable of
growth?
Professor Carol Dweck of Stanford University says this distinction in
how we think about ourselves has important implications for our ability and
desire to learn from feedback. Where did she learn this? From kids.
PUZZLING KIDS
Dweck began her research with a simple question: How do kids cope with
failure? To find out, she brought children to her lab and had them engage
with progressively tougher puzzles. As the puzzles got more challenging,
the kids grew frustrated, disengaged, and finally gave up.
Except some didn’t. In fact, to Dweck’s surprise, a few of them became
more energized as the challenges increased. One boy licked his lips
excitedly as he tried first one approach and then another, saying, “I was
hoping this would be informative!” Dweck herself was puzzled and
somewhat amazed. What’s wrong with these kids? she wondered. Why
aren’t they giving up? Why aren’t they taking in the feedback from their
puzzle struggle and getting upset that they’re failing?4
Dweck talked with the children to find out how they were making sense
of things and concluded that the ones who gave up quicker thought along
these lines: The first puzzles showed I was smart. These new ones are
making me look (and feel) dumb. In contrast, the kids who persisted thought
this: These new harder puzzles are helping me get better at doing puzzles.
This is fun!
The reason some kids kept trying had nothing to do with their interest in
or aptitude for puzzles. It came from each child’s mindset. The kids who
stopped assumed their puzzle-solving skill was a fixed trait. They had a
certain amount of it, the way a water molecule has a certain number of
hydrogen atoms. The kids who kept going viewed their puzzle-solving
ability as a flexible trait that could change and grow.
FIXED VERSUS GROWTH ASSUMPTIONS
If you have a fixed mindset, every situation you encounter is a referendum
on whether you have the smarts or ability that you think (or hope) you have.
“Fixed” kids do fine when the puzzles are easy. But when they start to
struggle, they hear the puzzle whispering to them: Not enough puzzle
smarts. You are not up to this task. They become discouraged, impatient,
embarrassed. Better to quit than to continue to face what they lack.
In contrast, the kids with growth mindsets assume that puzzle smarts
aren’t something you either have or you don’t. They assume that it’s a skill
that can be developed, and moreover, they see struggling with a tough
puzzle as just the challenge they need to improve. As Dweck explains, “Not
only weren’t they discouraged by failure, they didn’t even think they were
failing. They thought they were learning.”5 For them, the puzzle is not an
evaluator, but a coach.
It’s as if the growth-mindset kids were doing the puzzles in a room called
the “Learning Room,” and the fixed-mindset kids were doing the puzzles in
a room called the “Testing Room.” Which room would you rather live your
life in?
Dweck observes that many of us believe that our core traits, assets, and
character—our identities—are “carved in stone.”6 The way we were talked
to as children (and the way we often talk to our own children) reinforces
this tendency: “He’s a born leader,” “She’s very bright,” “You’ve always
been a very kind person,” “You’re a natural athlete.” Our identity stories
calcify around what we have and what we don’t. And we buy into the
obvious implication: Effort is unlikely to move the dial. How we are
described is how we are, and the rating is permanent; it doesn’t come out in
the wash.
BUT AREN’T SOME TRAITS FIXED?
It’s reasonable to wonder: Isn’t the fixed mindset just an acknowledgment
of reality?
It’s true that some traits are less influenced by effort than others. Fish are
better than you at breathing underwater, and it’s not because of their can-do
attitude. And each of us finds that some things come more easily than
others: Math and running feel natural to you, drawing and patience still
don’t.
Researchers argue over the precise degree to which various traits are
fixed or elastic, and have offered both thrilling evidence of growth and
dispiriting stories of limitations. But the bottom line is this: People do get
better when they apply themselves, and people apply themselves when they
believe they can get better. This is true whether we are excruciatingly bad at
something or preternaturally good.
And effort matters most with the qualities in life that matter most—
things like intelligence, leadership, performance, confidence, compassion,
creativity, self-awareness, and collaboration. These all grow with attention
and improve with coaching.
IMPLICATIONS FOR HOW WE RESPOND TO FEEDBACK AND CHALLENGE
The fixed and growth assumptions we carry have profound implications for
how we see ourselves, how we hear the feedback we get, and how we
respond to it.
The Accuracy of Our Self-Perception
Part of learning and growing is having a decent handle on your current
capabilities. That tells you what strengths you might capitalize on and
nurture, as well as what weaknesses you need to work on or work around.
Dweck reports that those with growth mindsets are “amazingly accurate” in
gauging their current abilities, while people with fixed mindsets are
“terrible” at estimating their own proficiencies.7
Why might this be? If your traits are fixed, it should be easier to get an
accurate read on your abilities. After all, they’re not a moving target. But
it’s more complicated than that: Although your mindset may be fixed, the
daily incoming data about you can fluctuate wildly. Yesterday I was
brilliant; today, a dolt. Last week I was competent; this week I seem to be a
real screwup. It can be hard to match up this broad range of data with your
simple, fixed sense of yourself. It’s not surprising that you’d be confused.
If you’ve got a growth identity, it’s easier to understand the mixed data.
It’s information, not damnation. Instead of hearing Last week I was
competent; this week a screwup, you hear Last week I was on top of things;
this week I’m dropping balls. It’s not who you are, but something you did.
Growth identity folks aren’t thrown by the contradiction and are motivated
to seek accurate information in order to adjust and learn.
How We Listen to Feedback
Our mindset—and resulting identity stories—has a significant impact on
what we pay attention to and what we don’t. Researchers Jennifer Mangels
and Catherine Good brought both fixed- and growth-mindset
undergraduates into a brain lab at Columbia, where they were hooked up to
EEG monitors and then took a test that drew from general knowledge of
literature, history, music, and art. Each student was then told two things:
whether they got each question right or wrong, and the correct answers for
the questions they missed. The fixed-mindset students paid close attention
to whether they got each question right or wrong, but lost interest when
informed what the right answer was. The growth-mindset folks, in contrast,
listened closely to the right answers. They didn’t ignore the evaluation, but
they were also hungry for coaching—how they could do better the next
time. And indeed, when retested, the growth-mindset students outperformed
their fixed counterparts.8
How We Respond to Struggle Can Create Self-fulfilling Prophecies
This may help to explain why, in the wake of failure, those with growth
mindsets tend to bounce back sooner. They see a shortfall as an opportunity
to grow and redouble their efforts as a result. After a setback at school,
growth-identity kids said they planned to study more or study differently
the next time, while kids with fixed mindsets were more likely to say that
they “felt dumb, would study less the next time, and seriously consider
cheating.” Perhaps driven by humiliation, people with a fixed mindset are
also more likely to lie to others about their performance and withdraw after
failure. They give up earlier, letting setbacks become settling points.9
The Framing Matters
Although Dweck says that about half of us tend to have fixed-identity
assumptions, the way we tell the story matters.
In fact, a single sentence can nudge us in the right (or wrong) direction.
In another study, Dweck and colleagues had fifth graders work on an easy
puzzle. Upon successful completion, half the children were told: “Wow,
you’re really smart!” The other half were told: “Wow, you worked hard at
that puzzle!” Then both groups were asked what they would like to do next:
a harder puzzle or an easier one.
Guess which group opted for the challenge? You guessed it.
One thing to learn from this study is that praising our kids for their
intelligence is, surprisingly, counterproductive to their learning. We’re
better off extolling their effort if we’re hoping to encourage them to take on
new challenges.
But wait a minute, why does this work? By the numbers, about half of
those kids who were admired for working hard had fixed mindsets. And yet
they opted to take on the next challenge as readily as their growth-mindset
groupmates. Perhaps the reason is that praising effort rather than ability
doesn’t trigger their fixed-identity anxiety. Or perhaps it’s that working hard
is a trait they feel confident they can replicate; whatever happens with that
next puzzle, their hard-working-ness could shine. But the bottom line is that
by focusing on a trait that emphasized the learning process, these kids were
just as willing to take risks and take on a challenge.
MOVE TOWARD A GROWTH IDENTITY
So how do you prod yourself from fixed assumptions to growth? The first
step is to be aware of your own tendencies. Are you more inclined to live in
the Testing Room or the Learning Room? Do you experience challenges as
threats to your identity or as opportunities for growth? Is failure the end of
the game or just another play in an ongoing game?
Look at the chart below and think about which assumptions resonate
with you.10
If you’re confused about whether a particular trait or ability is capable of
growth, that’s okay, too. These aren’t easy questions. But just because the
answer is not a clear yes does not mean it’s a clear no. Try experimenting:
Set out to change a habit or improve one of your skills. Find a coach and get
your hands dirty. Force yourself to try things you aren’t good at, and when
you fall on your face, make a list of three ways you could do better next
time. Rinse and repeat, and see what happens.
For instance, after your experience with your mother and your
conversation with Rita, what have you learned that will change how you
handle a comparable situation with your father? How will your experience
influence what you teach and expect from your own children? If you can
see things you will work at, if you can see things you have learned and
might change the next time, then you’re on your way to holding your sense
of self as capable of growth and change. The experience teaches you rather
than labels you.
And through it all, remember that negative feedback is not a rebuke to
the growth-mindset assumption. A growth mindset is not without setbacks
and disappointments. You’d hoped you were farther along this learning
curve than you apparently are. Your payoff for effort is smaller than you’d
hoped it might be. A growth identity is not about whether you get terrific or
troubling feedback. It’s about how you hold whatever you get.
• • •
Let’s turn to three specific practices that can help you cultivate a growth
identity.
PRACTICE #1: SORT TOWARD COACHING
Some feedback is primarily evaluative (your grade, your blog ranking).
Other feedback is intended as coaching. The givers only purpose is to help
you learn or get better at something. But as we saw with our twin batters
Annie and Elsie in chapter 2, even feedback offered as pure coaching can
reasonably be heard as evaluation. Try it this way (coaching) contains the
implicit message So far, you haven’t been doing it as well as you might
(evaluation).
As feedback receivers, we are always sorting feedback into coaching and
evaluation bins. Your choice of bin makes a huge difference in your ability
to take in feedback productively. The reason is this: While identity is easily
triggered by evaluation, it is far less threatened by coaching. It’s almost like
getting a free pass. You can learn without enduring the arduous task of
reevaluating who you are.
Elsbeth is on break after finishing the first half of a three-hour
presentation. The client approaches her and comments that it’s going well,
but suggests she amp up the energy level.
Is this coaching or evaluation?
If Elsbeth takes it as coaching, she might think to herself, I should have
another cup of coffee and figure out how to make this next segment more
interactive. . . . If she takes it as evaluation, her identity is hooked: Am I
boring you and everyone else? People usually love my sessions! But maybe
I’m not up to an audience this senior. . . . Elsbeth is left struggling with her
self-image, unable to engage with coaching that might actually improve the
next part of her talk. Identity triggered, learning blocked.
Hear Coaching as Coaching
Sorting toward coaching is not always easy. But there’s one kind of
feedback that should not give us any trouble: feedback that is specifically
offered as coaching. In that case, everything lines up in favor of hearing it
as such. It’s what they intend, it’s what will be helpful.
Yet too often we get it wrong and still sort coaching into the evaluation
bin.
Your friend shows you a better route to the airport, but you hear it as
a judgment that you don’t know your way around the city.
Your unit head tells you about a new app for time management, but
you hear him criticizing you for procrastinating.
Your partner tells you what she finds romantic, but you hear her
saying you are clueless and self-absorbed.
We snatch defensiveness from the jaws of learning.
As feedback conversations get more emotional or the stakes grow higher,
it gets easier to hear evaluation, and tougher to hear the coaching.
Try this exercise: Think of feedback you’ve received in the past several
months, big or small. Say, for example, that your friend asked you why you
let your children stay up so late.
First assume that the feedback was intended as evaluation. What would
the feedback say about you? You’re overpermissive? A bad parent?
Now imagine that the feedback was intended as coaching—something
you might learn from. In that case, you’d probably have a conversation with
your friend about what they’ve noticed and what they’re concerned about. It
might be something you’ve already considered or something you haven’t.
It’s another set of life experiences for you to consider when you make
parenting choices.
If you run through this sorting exercise a few times, you’ll notice three
things. First, you’ll see that with some effort you can hear most feedback
either way. Second, if you’re successful in hearing it as coaching, you’ll
notice that your identity reaction is diminished or gone. And third, you’ll
start to notice patterns—your own tendencies. Not uncommonly people
have this insight: Wow, I oversort toward evaluation way more than I
realized. Whether you do that only one out of ten times or eight out of ten
times, each of those oversorts is a potential meltdown that didn’t need to
happen, and feedback you could have been learning from. There are enough
real challenges in life. You don’t need to create imaginary ones.
When Coaching and Evaluation Get Tangled
Of course, sometimes the person giving the feedback intends a mix of
evaluation and coaching, or, more commonly, just hasn’t thought about it
clearly. In intense personal relationships this can be especially confusing,
and it takes real effort to sort things out.
A grown daughter, Lisa, tells her mother, Margaret: “When I was eight
and Dad left, I felt like you had abandoned me, too. You were so consumed
with your new job and your new social life—with ‘finding me a new dad.’ I
don’t think you realized how hard it was for me.”
Margaret hears Lisa saying, “You were a bad mother,” and is devastated.
She feels the feedback is unfair and defends herself: “Lisa, I worked so
hard to make things okay for you. It was a terribly hard time for both of us,
and I was really struggling emotionally and financially.”
This conversation is a good example of how identity and feedback
collide and of the fallout that results. Margaret sees herself as a good parent
—it’s a core theme in her identity story. She hears Lisa saying that she was
a failure as a mother, and is thrown into the dilemma of either accepting
what her daughter is saying (and seeing herself as a failure) or arguing with
Lisa’s characterization in an attempt to keep the feedback out.
It’s important to ask: What does Lisa want? What is her purpose in
bringing the subject up? Does she want her mother to admit she was a bad
mother? No. Lisa is hoping for three things: She wants her mother to
understand how she felt growing up; she wants acknowledgment from her
mother that some of her mothers choices contributed to Lisa’s pain; and
she wants a better current relationship.
Clearly, there is evaluation and judgment here, and anyone in Margaret’s
position would hear it. But the core of what Lisa is trying to communicate is
coaching. Her goal is not for her mother to feel judged, but for her mother
to learn about Lisa’s views and feelings. And in time, Lisa wants an
improved relationship with her mother.
We can test the assertion that Lisa intends coaching by looking at
different ways Margaret might respond and imagining which would be most
satisfying to Lisa. If her mother says, “Okay, maybe I was a bad mother,”
that is unlikely to do Lisa much good. In contrast, Margaret might say,
“Wow, I never realized how I was affecting you during that time. It’s hard
for me to hear that I was doing things that were hurtful to you. I’m so
sorry.” Of course, this will be a longer conversation, but likely to be more
satisfying to Lisa. And at some point they can begin to discuss how they’d
like their relationship to be now.
Placing the conversation in a coaching frame may help lessen Margaret’s
emotional pain, but that’s not the reason it’s important to do. Margaret
should hear it as coaching because it’s at the heart of what her daughter
intends. Hearing coaching helps Margaret to move away from her own
internal identity reaction and work to hear what her daughter is really
saying.
PRACTICE #2: UNPACK JUDGMENT FROM THE EVALUATION SUITCASE
Some feedback, of course, is straight evaluation, and it’s this that challenges
our identity most directly. I’m breaking up with you; you didn’t get the job;
the neighbors won’t let their kid play at your house because they disapprove
of your “home environment.”
As we figure out how to hear evaluation, it’s helpful to break evaluation
itself down into three constituent parts: assessment, consequences, and
judgment.
Assessment ranks you. It tells you where you stand. At the track
meet your assessment is clear: You ran the mile in five minutes,
nineteen seconds, placing you fourth in the forty- to forty-five age
group.
Consequences are about the real-world outcomes that result from
the assessment: Based on the assessment, what, if anything, is going to
happen? As a result of your race time, you qualify for the regionals,
but do not yet qualify for the nationals. Consequences can be certain
or speculative, immediate or down the road.
Judgment is the story givers and receivers tell about the assessment
and its consequences. You are delighted by your performance—it’s
better than you expected this morning. Your coach is disappointed by
your performance and thinks you should have done better.
By looking at the components of evaluation this way, you can figure out
what about a given evaluation is triggering your identity. In the racing
example, it’s not the assessment or the consequences; it’s your coach’s
judgment. You see yourself as someone who doesn’t let others down.
Learning that your coach is disappointed challenges that aspect of how you
see yourself. Not in a huge way, but it’s something you notice.
Breaking it down also helps you focus on what you want to discuss with
the feedback giver: Are you in agreement with the assessment but not the
judgment?11 Are the consequences clear and fair? Why does your coach
have a different judgment about your time, and what can you learn from
that?
Accurate assessment is valuable and the consequences are important to
understand. Others’ judgments? You may find certain judgments
illuminating; other judgments you’ll rightly dismiss. It’s one person’s
interpretation, and you’ve got your own interpretation, thank you very
much.
PRACTICE #3: GIVE YOURSELF A “SECOND SCORE”
Let’s imagine you get a negative evaluation. The assessment seems fair, but
the consequences are painful. You get rejected—by that potential employer,
that girl, that graduate program, that team, that client.
Now what?
Whatever else you do to cope, imagine that there is an invisible second
evaluation. After every low score you receive, after each failure and
faltering step, give yourself a “second score” based on how you handle the
first score. In every situation in life, there’s the situation itself, and then
there’s how you handle it. Even when you get an F for the situation itself,
you can still earn an A+ for how you deal with it.
There are two pieces of good news here. First, while the initial evaluation
may not be fully within your control, your reaction to it usually is. And
second, in the long term, the second score is often more important than the
first.
Mel and Melinda, two aspiring performers, work hard on their first
YouTube video, which they hope will be their ticket out of the mundane
world of their day jobs. They write it, direct it, act in it, and edit it. They
compose and perform the music. The final product exceeds their
expectations. It’s brilliant. They post it.
It gets savaged. The comments are uniformly thumbs down, and several
are needlessly personal and cruel. And it’s getting a paltry number of hits.
Mel is crushed, angrily accusing the world of being too stupid to
understand what he and Melinda are trying for. Melinda is just as upset, but
as she licks her wounds, she wonders what they can learn from the
experience.
A few weeks later Melinda watches the video and notices for the first
time that, although the ideas are clever, the execution has problems. The
lyrics are hard to make out, the jump cuts are too jumpy. She shares her
observations with Mel, who responds that creative people would be able to
see past the problematic execution.
Melinda has a different response: She’s determined to get good—scary
good—at the craft of making these short movies. She reads everything she
can find on social media and takes an evening class on film editing. Over
the course of the next year she develops and posts several new videos and
starts to pick up subscribers to her channel. Eventually she reworks the
original video and posts it to a mostly thumbs-up reception.
Both Mel and Melinda got a thumbs-down first score; only Melinda got a
thumbs-up second score. In this example, as is so often the case, a good
second score is what really matters.
To be clear, we’re not just saying that it’s good to be resourceful and
resilient. We’re suggesting that you make getting a good second score part
of your identity: I don’t always succeed, but I take an honest shot at
figuring out what there is to learn from the failure. I’m actually pretty good
at that. You might even have a kind of Second Score Scorecard set up in
your mind. That will make this particular part of your identity easier to keep
track of. The scorecard reminds you that the initial evaluation is not the end
of the story. It’s the start of the second story about the meaning you’ll make
of the experience in your life.
A strong second-score identity can help you deal with even the most
challenging life events. Heather recalls the day her longtime girlfriend left
her, and the weeks and months that followed: “All I had control over was
my reaction, and I got up every morning and went to work. I treated
everyone around me respectfully. Actually, working to ‘handle it well’ gave
me something to focus on and to feel good about. And I do.”
As we mentioned in the previous chapter, handling something well
doesn’t mean denying pain or that you emerge unscathed. Heather isn’t
saying, “Now that my girlfriend has left me, I’m happier than ever!” It’s
about facing whatever you’re dealing with head-on. If you find yourself
unable to sleep and fighting bouts of anxiety and loneliness, then handling it
well means having the courage to admit that you need help and asking for
it. Even as Heathers identity as someone who is worthy of love took a hard
hit, she found growth: “I learned that I could deal with a tough loss with
grace and resilience.”
That’s not nothing.
Summary: SOME KEY IDEAS
Our ability to take in and metabolize feedback is affected by how we tell our identity story.
Shift from:
Simple all-or-nothing to realistically complex.
Fixed to growth — so that you see challenge as opportunity, and
feedback as useful information for learning.
Three practices help:
1. Sort for coaching. Hear coaching as coaching, and find the coaching in
evaluation.
2. When evaluated, separate the judgment from assessment and
consequences.
3. Give yourself a second score for how you handle the first score.
FEEDBACK IN CONVERSATION
10
HOW GOOD DO I HAVE TO BE?
Draw Boundaries When Enough Is Enough
Martin started in the oil business straight out of the Marines, working his
way up on the rig. He is now considered one of the best drillers in the
business. After a long shift, Martin crawls into his bunk and pulls out his
unfinished development plan. It’s overdue. He needs to send it shoreside
tonight or risk an escalated round of pestering.
Item 23b: Please list your personal goals for the coming year. Include
benchmarks for how you will measure your attainment of those goals.
Martin groans. After thirty-one years in the business, I need yet another
round of hungry new goals? He smiles and writes: “My goal is to complete
another year safely and productively. And to get you to leave me alone
about my goals.”
No benchmarks necessary.
FINDING BOUNDARIES, SETTING BOUNDARIES
Most of this book explores how to get better at receiving feedback—taking
it in and understanding it fully before deciding whether to accept it. But this
raises a question: Is it okay not only to turn down feedback, but to say, “I
don’t even want to hear it”?
It is.
In fact, being able to establish limits on the feedback you get is crucial to
your well-being and the health of your relationships. Being able to say no is
not a skill that runs parallel to the skill of receiving feedback well; it’s right
at the heart of it. If you can’t say no, then your yeses are not freely chosen.
Your decision may affect others and it will often have consequences for
you, but the choice belongs to you. You need to make your own mistakes
and find your own learning curve. Sometimes that means you need to shut
out the critics for a while so you can discover who you are and how you are
going to grow. Writer Anne Lamott puts it this way:
. . . Every single one of us at birth is given an emotional acre all our
own. You get one, your awful Uncle Phil gets one, I get one. . . . And
as long as you don’t hurt anyone, you really get to do with your acre
as you please. You can plant fruit trees or flowers or alphabetized
rows of vegetables, or nothing at all. If you want your acre to look like
a giant garage sale, or an auto-wrecking yard, that’s what you get to
do with it. There’s a fence around your acre, though, with a gate, and
if people keep coming onto your land and sliming it or trying to do
what they think is right, you get to ask them to leave. And they have to
go, because this is your acre.1
This chapter is about that acre, fence, and gate, and how and why you might
ask your givers to step outside on occasion.
THREE BOUNDARIES
Rejecting feedback can be as easy as saying no thanks or walking away or
simply saying nothing. They offer, you decline, and it’s over. But
sometimes it’s more complicated than that. You say no, but the unwanted
feedback keeps coming. It’s not just bothersome but destructive. This is
when it helps to be explicit about boundaries. Here are three kinds of
boundaries to consider:
1. I MAY NOT TAKE YOUR ADVICE
The first is the softest: I’m willing to listen. I’ll consider your input. But I
may not end up taking it.
Is this any fence at all? If the choice is always yours, why would you
need to describe this first boundary out loud? Because the person giving
you the feedback or advice may not share your opinion that it’s optional.
You ask your future mother-in-law to suggest florists for the wedding. You
choose a different florist, and she gripes: “Why do you even ask my advice
if you don’t care what I say?” In the dance between receiver and giver,
when you don’t follow the givers lead, you may step on some toes.
It can be confusing terrain. If you reject my advice, are you rejecting me?
Some advice givers hear it that way, even if it doesn’t mean that to you.
When you solicit suggestions you know you may not take, you can avoid
heartache by saying so up front. Don’t say to your mother-in-law: “Which
florist should we use?” Be more precise: “We’re thinking about several
different florists. Are there any you’d add to our list?”
Another challenge is the line between a suggestion and an order.
Choosing to disregard feedback may have consequences. You can continue
to turn up late for your shift at the hospital . . . and your boss can fire you. If
you’re unsure if the coaching is optional or mandatory, discuss it explicitly.
And if you decide not to take the coaching, don’t assume the giver knows
why. Explain your reasons carefully.
2. I DON’T WANT FEEDBACK ABOUT THAT SUBJECT, NOT RIGHT NOW
With this second boundary, you are not only establishing your right to
decide whether to take the feedback, you’re establishing your right to be
free of the topic altogether: “I don’t even want to hear it. Not right now (and
maybe not ever).”
Your sister has badgered you to quit smoking for years. You’ve tried and
failed and tried and failed. Now that your uncle is dying of a smoking-
related illness, the whole family has joined the chorus. You understand
where they’re coming from, but right now you need them to back off. There
just isn’t anything more to say on the subject, and you don’t have the
emotional energy to continue the conversation.
3. STOP, OR I WILL LEAVE THE RELATIONSHIP
This third boundary is the starkest: If you can’t keep your judgments to
yourself, if you can’t accept me the way I am now, then I will leave the
relationship, or change its terms (I will come home for the holidays, but I’m
not staying with you). Simply being in the relationship, buffeted by your
judgments, is doing damage to my sense of self.
HOW DO I KNOW IF BOUNDARIES ARE NEEDED?
It starts with an agitated feeling or thought: I’m overwhelmed; I’m a failure;
this isn’t working; this is too much; I can never do anything right; I’m not
good enough. And then a question: Should I draw a boundary here? But
how can you tell the difference between someone who is genuinely trying to
help you (or trying to share a real concern about how you are in a
relationship) and a relationship that is in some fundamental way out of
whack or unhealthy?
There is no pat formula for determining the difference between a
legitimate request for change and one that indicates a deeper problem. The
feedback giver may not mean harm, may not be trying to control you, and
may even care deeply about you. They may not know any better, or may
have issues of their own. But that doesn’t change the feedback’s impact on
you, as it eats away at your self-acceptance bit by bit.
Below are a set of questions that will help you sort out your own thinking
about whether a boundary is needed in a particular context or relationship.
DO THEY ATTACK YOUR CHARACTER, NOT JUST YOUR BEHAVIOR?
They don’t say, “I found that frustrating,” or, “Here’s an idea that would
help.” Instead they say, “Here’s what’s wrong with you,” or even, “Here’s
why you’ll never amount to anything.” Whether or not it’s explicitly
spoken, the message is that you are not attractive or ambitious or good
enough, you are not worthy of love, respect, and kindness the way you are
now.
IS THE FEEDBACK UNRELENTING?
Your executive coach is trying to help you feel more comfortable
hobnobbing with the bigwigs in the C-suite, but he is making you more
self-conscious and anxious, not less. You’ve discussed the fact that it’s not
helping, but instead of adjusting his approach, your coach opens the spigot
wider.
Unhelpful feedback is useless; relentless unhelpful feedback is
destructive. You’ve asked the person to stop, cease, desist, shut up, go
away. Yet the coaching and advice pour forth.
WHEN YOU DO CHANGE, IS THERE ALWAYS ONE MORE DEMAND?
Some feedback givers are always looking for the next thing to fix, whether
it’s about the house or the car or you. But more ominously, it may be that
the act of telling you what to change is the end in itself. They are in charge,
you are their charge, and those clear roles keep things in order.
This need for control could be motivated by their own fear: If your
partner didn’t always have you scrambling to be worthy of their love, you’d
notice there was nothing in the relationship for you. If your supervisor
didn’t withhold his respect, you’d realize that he’s not particularly worthy
of your respect. Or maybe they need to feel in charge because they just
don’t know how to play any other role. Whatever the cause, the effect
leaves you in a constant state of not good enough.
DOES THE FEEDBACK GIVER TAKE THE RELATIONSHIP HOSTAGE?
The formulation here is this: Of course it’s your choice whether or not to
take my feedback, but if you don’t, it means you don’t love or respect me.
They tie something small to something big, which is a ploy to get their way
on every small issue that comes along. This tactic strips you of your
autonomy while pretending you’re free to do as you please.
Your mother-in-law conveys an implicit message: If you don’t choose the
florist I recommended, you’re the one who ruined our relationship. It
sounds ludicrous because it is. But it’s worth being aware that the intention
behind this approach is not always manipulative. People sometimes seek
attention by holding the relationship hostage because they don’t have the
skills to express their feelings of insecurity, anxiety, or hurt in any other
way. You can be compassionate about the givers needs without becoming
their hostage.
ARE THEY ISSUING WARNINGS—OR MAKING THREATS?
Here’s the difference: A warning is a good-faith attempt to explain possible
legitimate consequences (“If you’re late to dinner, the spaghetti will be
cold”), whereas the purpose of a threat is to manufacture consequences that
will induce fear (“If you’re late to dinner, I will throw the spaghetti at
you”). These are warnings:
“If your people management skills don’t improve, we can’t keep you in
this position.”
“If you don’t disclose this in the filing, I’m required to inform the
commission.”
“If you come home drunk again, I’m moving out.”
As you can see, the variable is not whether the consequences warned of are
severe; it’s whether they are legitimate. In some cases, the warnings are
final; they’re ultimatums. It is not a happy situation that things have come
to this. But the other person is giving you information about real
consequences so that you can make informed choices.
Threats have the same “if-then” structure, but spring from a different
motive: to induce fear or dependence, to lower self-esteem or confidence, to
control or manipulate. And the consequences are manufactured for that
purpose:
“If you don’t do as I say, I’ll see that you never work in this industry
again.”
“If I leave you, no one else will ever love you.”
A warning is when someone tells you the other shoe may drop; a threat is
when they make sure it will squash you.
IS IT ALWAYS YOU WHO HAS TO CHANGE?
Things seem okay until you notice a troubling pattern. Whenever there is
conflict between you, whenever you need to solve a problem that has
arisen, you are the only one who takes responsibility for anything. You
apologize, you stay late, you absorb the budget overruns. If you are always
the one who has to change, who has to give in, who has to go the extra mile,
then your roles may be stuck. Negotiating a shift from blame and one-way
feedback to mutual accountability and willingness to look at the system
between you is fundamental to the sustainability of a relationship, whether
it’s based in work, love, or friendship.
ARE YOUR VIEWS AND FEELINGS A LEGITIMATE PART OF THE RELATIONSHIP?
This may be both the simplest and most important of the criteria.
Regardless of anything else, is the feedback giver listening to you and
working hard to understand how you see things and how you feel? And
once they know, do they care? Are they willing to modify how they share
their feedback, requests, and advice based on how it affects you? Do they
respect your autonomy to make up your own mind and to reject their
advice? If your feelings and views aren’t part of the relationship, there is a
problem.
WHERE BOUNDARIES WOULD HELP: SOME COMMON
RELATIONSHIP PATTERNS
The relationship doesn’t have to be certifiably dysfunctional for you to
decide that feedback within the relationship is not working for you. Let’s
look at three examples of how the challenges described above form
common relationship patterns.
THE CONSTANT CRITIC
Constant critics provide running commentary that is a stream of evaluation
—sizing you up and letting you know the score. They are your father, your
older sister, your best friend, your devoted coach, your demanding boss.
They just want to help. And they do this with all the subtlety of an
auctioneer.
Conversations between Hunyee and her mother have always been
fraught. As a child Hunyee was relentlessly corrected, coached, and
chastised. As an adult she knows that the minute her mother arrives she will
begin assessing the state of Hunyee’s closets, cooking, weight, and
wardrobe. Hunyee knows that her mother loves her, and even recognizes
that her constant criticism is the way her mother expresses that love. In fact,
it’s the way her mother expresses everything; without criticism, there would
be only silence.
But it still leaves Hunyee feeling raw and hurt. Even in her mothers
absence, Hunyee hears her voice in her head, goading and condemning.
This is not the legacy her mother intends, but without some change, it is the
one she will inevitably leave.
There are constant critics at work as well. Jake, a successful investment
adviser, prides himself on his mentoring relationship with Brodie, a young
analyst. Jake’s standards are uncompromising, but he’s lavish with coaching
and advice, rare commodities at this particular firm. Unfortunately, this is
not how Brodie sees it. He feels like he can do no right. Every move he
makes is criticized, every report is ripped apart, every effort inadequate.
Brodie, a pretty tough character himself, now dreads coming to work.
HATE-LOVE-HATE RELATIONSHIPS
Psychologists tell us that the most addictive reward pattern is called
“intermittent reinforcement.” Video games and gambling use this approach.
We win just often enough to keep us playing. When we do win, we’re
desperate to win again; when we lose, we are even more desperate to play
until we win. Winning love and approval may be the reward we crave most.
Jasmine is caught in a relationship in which approval is dangled and
promised but withheld. Just when all seems lost, approval is briefly
bestowed—and then withdrawn again, starting the cycle afresh. This is one
important reason why someone might stay with a damaging partner, coach,
boss, or family member. They hate the hate, but it makes their need for the
love even more intense. Feedback giver and receiver are both caught up in a
powerful dynamic that is not healthy for either and is particularly damaging
to the receiver.
RENOVATION RELATIONSHIPS
Henry was thrilled by all the attention Isabella paid him. Even her little
“suggestions” had an intoxicating effect; they were, after all, evidence of
how much she cared about him. He’d found love, and all this self-
improvement was a bonus.
Until it wasn’t. At first her suggestions for change seemed reasonable.
She had ideas for how he could “freshen up his look,” and he figured it
wouldn’t hurt to be a sharper dresser. But then the feedback spread to other
aspects of his life: work out more, stop reading those comics, don’t act like
such a nerd in front of my friends, don’t take things so personally, have
some ambition, make my hobbies your hobbies.
Henry tried. He was genuinely eager to be the person Isabella wanted
him to be. But in time he grew anxious and unhappy and told Isabella so.
She explained that she was just trying to help him grow, noting that Henry
wasn’t making it easy since he was so hypersensitive to feedback.
Henry decided to get some outside perspective and discussed the
relationship with his friend Rollo:
Henry: I mean, maybe she’s right. Maybe I am too sensitive. If I’m
going to be in a serious relationship maybe I have to be more
mature myself. Maybe I really do need to change. Maybe I’m being
selfish or maybe I’m kind of stuck.
Rollo: That’s possible. But what I’m struck by is how unhappy you
are. Have you told Isabella how all her advice and criticism is
affecting you?
Henry: Yeah, I’ve told her. Several times.
Rollo: How does she respond?
Henry: She said the real problem is that I’m just too sensitive to
feedback.
Rollo: And you were honest about just how unhappy you are?
Henry: I was. The whole thing is really eating away at me and I’ve
told her that.
Rollo: To me, that’s the big problem here. From what you’ve said, it
sounds as if she’s trying to turn you into someone else. But even
putting that aside, it sounds like your feelings are not part of the
equation, and what you need is not part of the relationship.
Henry: Hmm. So you’re saying that regardless of whether she’s too
critical or I’m too sensitive, it’s a problem that she doesn’t seem to
care how I’m feeling.
Rollo: It’s a giant red flag.
Henry has become so preoccupied by whether he is able to please Isabella
that he isn’t noticing just how little his needs and feelings matter to her.
Keep this front and center: No matter what growing you have to do, and
regardless of how right (or not) the feedback may be, if the person giving
you the feedback is not listening to you and doesn’t care about its impact on
you, something is wrong. Rollo has this exactly right. It’s fine to try to
figure out whether the giver is too critical or you’re too sensitive, but if the
other person isn’t listening to you and your feelings, the answer is beside
the point. You are worthy of love, acceptance, and compassion—right now,
as you are, full stop. This may be tough to see from inside an unbalanced
relationship. But it’s the bottom-line truth.
BUT WAIT, DOES THAT MEAN . . . ?
Is there something wrong with hoping your significant other does pick up
some better habits, loses some weight, or finally finishes college? No. It’s
fine to wish that for them, and to coach and support them so they can get
there. The key question here: Is it something they want? Or something only
you want? If they genuinely do want this change, you’re in the clear. Make
your intentions discussable, and most of all, make sure to listen.
TURNING AWAY FEEDBACK WITH GRACE AND HONESTY
The biggest mistake we make when trying to create boundaries is that we
assume other people understand what’s going on with us. Surely they know
we’re overloaded or unhappy or struggling, and that their feedback is
making things worse. But often they don’t. We may not have told them, or
if we have, we were indirect or unclear or they just weren’t listening. It’s
true that they haven’t exactly gone out of their way to figure us out, but
that’s not within our control, and frankly, it’s par for the course. They’ll
never be as interested in figuring out our boundaries as we are.
BE TRANSPARENT: ACTUALLY TELL THEM
With increasing frequency, Dave, a cop in his mid-forties, asks people to
repeat themselves and misses what is said in meetings. His coworkers have
started to notice. “My partner kept nudging me to get my hearing checked,
so I finally did,” says Dave. “Turns out my hearing has really deteriorated,
and I need a hearing aid.”
Yet six months have passed, and Dave hasn’t gone back to be fitted for
one. “I’ve been wrestling a bit,” he admits. “I’m having trouble thinking of
myself as someone who needs a device that, fairly or unfairly, I’ve always
associated with the elderly. I know my resistance isn’t rational. I’ll get
there. I just need time to update my self-image.”
Dave hasn’t told anyone on the force about the test or the result. He
doesn’t feel that he needs to: What matters is that he’s on top of things and
is dealing with it.
But his coworkers don’t know that. So they’re left with the impression
that he’s ignoring them. When they repeat their concerns, Dave responds to
them—in his head. It’s being handled, he thinks to himself, so why do you
keep bothering me about it?
All he needs to do is explain things out loud: “I got checked. I need a
hearing aid. I’m going to get one. It’s a hard adjustment to make. I’ll do
better if I’m not pestered.” That won’t fix his hearing problems, but it will
go a long way toward fixing his feedback problems.
BE FIRM—AND APPRECIATIVE
Dave’s story is an example of someone taking feedback. It’s at least as
important to be explicit and clear when we reject feedback. We can do that
best by being both firm and appreciative.
PJ struggles with severe stage fright, and her university department head
has a habit of rushing up to her just as she is about to begin lecturing and
whispering, “Don’t be nervous!” Which makes PJ panic. But she handles
the feedback conversation well:
PJ: Anxiety is a real struggle for me. I know you’re aware of that, and
when you say “don’t be nervous” I know you’re trying to help. The
impact, though, is it actually makes me more nervous, rather than
less.
Department Head: Well, of course I’m trying to help. Anything to
give you that extra boost of confidence! So when you get up there,
there’s no need to be nervous!
PJ: Okay, but that does end up making me more nervous.
Department Head: Well, it shouldn’t. You’re fabulous!
PJ: Here’s the impact it has on me. It reminds me that I have this
anxiety problem. What would help me is to hear how you’ve been
able to cope with anxiety when you speak publicly. But I’d like to
hear about that on days when I’m not lecturing.
PJ does a graceful job of acknowledging and appreciating her department
head’s good intentions, while being firm in her request that she not get
coaching right before she lectures. Being firm and being appreciative are
not opposite ends of a continuum. You can be clear about both.
REDIRECT UNHELPFUL COACHING
Sometimes we assume we need the starkest kind of boundary because of the
pain we’re in. Our instinct is to shut it all down: No judgment. No coaching.
No nothing—or it’s good-bye.
But you may have noticed that PJ does something that can make drawing
boundaries easier: She redirects her coach’s energy and interest toward
something that may actually help.
You might experiment with loaning your giver a corner of your acre, and
tell them what you’d love to see there. Hunyee to her mother: “I have so
much to learn from you. When you visit, would you teach me to make your
amazing dumplings?” This suggestion is good for Hunyee, of course, but it
might meet her mothers interests as well. Her mother yearns for a role in
her daughters life, and her criticisms may be a misguided attempt to
establish such a role. She wants to be useful and to feel valued by her very
capable adult child.
Letting givers know what they can help you with may be the incentive
they need to cut down on the advice you don’t want to hear about. And it
lays a helpful foundation for erecting other boundaries if you need them.
USE “AND”
In setting up boundaries, you want to reject feedback clearly and firmly,
while at the same time affirming the relationship and showing that you
appreciate the intention.
The temptation is to link these two thoughts with the word “but.” Hunyee
to her mother: “I love seeing you, but if you’re going to come to my house
you need to stop criticizing every single thing.” “But” suggests a
contradiction between the two thoughts. The first part would be true, but for
the second. You love seeing me but what? “But you criticize me too much.”
So therefore you don’t actually love seeing me.
Human emotions don’t necessarily cancel each other out. I can love
spending time with you and still be anxious that you’re coming. I can
genuinely appreciate your mentoring and decide not to take your advice. I
can be sad that I’m hurting you and proud of myself for doing the right
thing. Contradictory feelings sit side-by-side in our hearts and minds,
clacking against each other like marbles in our pocket.
Using “and” to describe our feelings isn’t just about word choice. It gets
at a deeper truth about our thoughts and feelings: They are often complex
and sometimes confused. We figure we can draw clear boundaries most
easily with a simple bottom-line message—yes, no, not right now—and so
our impulse is to keep the complexity or confusion hidden. But often
sharing complex feelings along with the message actually makes
establishing the boundary easier.
Raul’s parents believe that an engineering degree will give their son a
secure life, without the hardships they have endured. His passion for music?
A “frivolous hobby.”
Raul respects his parents and has worked hard to understand their
perspective and worries. He shares many of those worries himself,
profoundly so. And still, he has decided to pursue music. But how to tell his
parents? “When I tried to imagine having the conversation,” he says, “my
blood ran cold. Rejecting their advice would mean turning my back on
them; following their advice would mean turning my back on myself. I
don’t want to be the ungrateful, wayward son. And I don’t want to be an
engineer.”
Nothing was going to make this conversation easy, and Raul couldn’t
control how his parents would react. What unlocked the dilemma for Raul
was realizing that he could share both sides of the “and”—the multiple,
competing, and confusing thoughts and feelings that are no less true for
being simultaneous. With his heart in his throat, Raul sat down with his
parents and held forth with a series of ands: “I’ve been afraid to talk to you
about this and it’s important to me to be honest with you.” “I’ve decided to
major in music and I know this makes you worry about my future.” “I’m
also very fearful of the struggle I may face and I need to try.” “I know this
is hard for you and I hope you will still be supportive of me.”
He braced for their reaction. If this were a Hollywood movie, his parents
would have smiled and offered a cheerful embrace. But there was no
swelling soundtrack. In his fathers face there was disappointment, in his
mothers there was worry. Raul himself was anxious—but at peace with
himself. He’d made a hard decision that felt right to him and had explained
it to his parents as clearly and respectfully as he knew how.
When you share the complexity or confusion, you are adopting what we
call the “And Stance.” It’s a powerful place to stand, and you can use it in
any situation where you’ve listened to someone’s input and have decided to
go in a different direction: “I think what you’ve said makes a lot of sense.
And I’ve decided that those aren’t the skills that are the most pressing
priority for me right now.” Fill in your reasoning and be willing to field
questions to make it a two-way conversation. It’s your boundary, but the
conversation belongs to both of you.
BE SPECIFIC ABOUT YOUR REQUEST
Hunyee ultimately says this to her mother: “Mom, I love you and I know
you want the best for me. And your comments about my weight and
housekeeping and clothing are incredibly upsetting to me. If you’re going to
stay with me, I need you to keep them to yourself. Is that a request you can
honor?”
Hunyee is making a specific request. She’s not saying, “Quit being so
critical,” or “I need you to back off.” These requests would reflect how
she’s feeling, but they are unlikely to help, for two reasons. First, they set
up the terms of a fight. She’s giving her mother feedback but tripping all her
truth, relationship, and identity triggers at the same time. Her mother will be
likely to argue about whether it’s “true” that she’s critical, or switchtrack
because she feels unappreciated. She’ll be distracted as she wrestles with
whether she’s a “good mother” and a “good person.”
And second, the request is too general. “Back off” and “Quit criticizing”
are too vague, especially since Hunyee’s mother may not be aware of her
behavior in the first place. Remember that some of this is habitual behavior
that’s probably in a blind spot, and as such needs more than just a label.
So when setting boundaries, be specific about three things:
The Request. What, exactly, are you asking of them? Are
you putting a particular topic off limits (my new spouse, my
new weight), or a behavior (my ADHD, my football
watching)? If they need examples of what you’re talking
about, describe them as you recall them, along with their
effect on you.
The Time Frame. How long is the boundary likely to be in
place? Do you need time to sort things out for yourself, to
adjust your self-image, to take care of other priorities first,
to find your feet as a new stepparent or new leader? Let
them know if the boundary is time limited, and if not, how
they might check in with you about it without violating the
boundary. (“Can I ask how things are going with that thing
I’m not supposed to mention?”)
Their Assent. Don’t assume that they understand you or
agree. Instead, ask. When they say, “Yes, I will honor your
request,” it’s not just about you anymore. They’re making a
commitment, and that enlists their identity and reputation in
living up to their promise.
These conversations are harder in hierarchy, but with some thought, you can
often find an acceptable way in. At the investment firm, Brodie probably
isn’t going to say to his boss Jake, “Now you listen here, pal. I’ll have no
more of your constant criticisms!” But he might feel comfortable saying
that he appreciates having a mentor who cares so passionately about his
progress, and at the same time, is feeling a bit banged up as a result of their
conversations. Or he could request that Jake focus on one or two skills
rather than on everything.
DESCRIBE CONSEQUENCES
Finally, it’s only fair to let them know what’s at stake. You are telling them
to keep their judgments to themselves, or else.
Or else what?
Earlier we talked about the difference between threats and warnings.
Your purpose here isn’t to make a threat, it’s to issue a clear warning. You
need to let them know what happens if they can’t or won’t observe the
boundaries. They are free to accept your request, or not—you can’t control
their choice and shouldn’t try. But you are free to make adjustments to the
relationship on your end, as needed. Here’s an example of how you might
describe consequences:
“You know I’ve struggled with smoking, and I’m all too aware of the
causes of Uncle Marv’s illness. Right now I’m overwhelmed with my new
job and I can’t also handle side comments and knowing looks and
disapproval when I step outside to have a cigarette. I know you mean it to
be caring, but that’s not how it’s feeling. If you can’t leave the issue behind
for now, I’ll make sure to visit Marv at times when I know you won’t be
here.”
With any boundaries you set, don’t be surprised if others stumble here
and there as they work to honor the boundary. Don’t lie in wait for a single
slipup. They’ve had lots of practice being critical of you—they should
receive a lifetime achievement award, in fact—and those habits are hard to
break. Expect to have to give a couple of firm reminders, try to keep a sense
of humor about lapses, and appreciate progress where they are making it.
Of course, if they can’t or won’t work at it with you, then it’s up to you to
protect yourself.2
YOU HAVE A DUTY TO MITIGATE THE COST TO OTHERS
You’ve decided not to change. You’ve listened carefully to your children,
but are not yet ready to move out of the home you’ve lived in for sixty
years. You’ve heard the concerns from your team and are still going
forward with your plan to reorganize the department. Your husband’s ex-
wife wants you to get rid of your “germy” cat out of concern for her visiting
children, but you’ve decided to keep both the cat and the germs.
End of story?
Not so fast. We don’t always get to go our merry way, and bollocks to
those who don’t like it. Being in a relationship—whether at work or at
home—means being cognizant of the cost of our behaviors and decisions to
those around us. If you’re not going to change, you still have a “duty to
mitigate.” That means you need to do what you can, within reason, to
reduce the impacts of your actions (or inaction) on others.
INQUIRE ABOUT, AND ACKNOWLEDGE, THE IMPACT ON THEM
Ask how your choice affects others you live and work with. After much
thought, and discussions with several doctors, Larry decided that, for now,
he is not going to take medication for his ADHD. This has consequences
for him, of course, as he struggles to organize his life and get things done. It
also has consequences for his family and for his coworkers at the
construction site. Talking with them about the implications will, in large
part, determine the success of his efforts and of these relationships. In what
ways will his decision frustrate his family as they need to prod, prompt, and
remediate? What concerns do his crew members have for efficiency or
safety, and what processes can they put in place together to ensure a secure
work environment? The decision to take or not take the medication is
Larry’s; the consequences of that decision are shared.
COACH THEM TO DEAL WITH THE UNCHANGED YOU
Jackie knows she can dominate any discussion, and that she should leave
more room for others. After working at it—fruitlessly—for the last year, she
decides to give up for now. “I know I can be overbearing,” she tells her
teammates. “I tried to change. It was a lot of effort for almost no benefit. So
I give you all permission to cut me off. Red-card me, or throw me in the
penalty box. I don’t mean to dominate discussions but I imagine I’ll
continue to do it without realizing it. I promise I won’t think you’re being
rude; I need the help, and I’ll appreciate it.”
PROBLEM SOLVE TOGETHER
The idea isn’t to shut down discussion, but to open it up and to problem
solve about how to minimize the cost of your decision not to change.
Your children don’t want to worry about you living alone. Making
modifications to the house, moving a bedroom downstairs, hiring some
help, or getting a life alert system may help reduce their anxiety and make
you safer. Your staff is concerned about the impact on customers while
you’re all in the middle of a reorganization, so sit down together to map out
how you’ll ensure continuity of service.
Consider the issues between Mark and his younger brother, Steve. For
three decades Mark has been on Steve about his flakiness. The latest clash
concerns Mark’s season tickets for the Steelers: “When I offer you one of
my tickets, you’re always like, ‘Yeah, man, I’ll be there!’ But half the time
you show up late, and sometimes you don’t show at all.”
Steve can’t argue with his show rate, but he knows himself well enough
to know that there’s little chance he’s really going to change. Mark could
keep knocking his head against the wall, or he could stop inviting his
brother to the games.
But there’s a third option: Mark and Steve decide to assume that Steve
isn’t going to change, and problem solve about how to minimize the
aggravation to Mark. These days when Mark extends an invitation, they
discuss specific details regarding Steve’s assurances that he’ll make it on
time (“Are you double-booking yourself? What else is going on that day?
Do you need a ride?”), and the cost to Mark if Steve bails. Sometimes Steve
thanks him for the invite and suggests Mark ask someone else. At other
times, recognizing that Mark is really only asking him so they can spend
some time together, Steve makes an alternate suggestion that they go
golfing or out for a beer instead.
So Steve has set his boundary—I really don’t think I can change—and
he’s worked with his brother to reduce the impact on Mark. This allows
them to move on from the fantasy future of a changed Steve and to enjoy
who each of them is now. Paradoxically, the clarity of Steve’s boundary has
made it easier for the brothers to spend time together.
Summary: SOME KEY IDEAS
Boundaries: The ability to turn down or turn away feedback is critical to healthy relationships
and lifelong learning.
Three kinds of boundaries:
Thanks and No — I’m happy to hear your coaching . . . and I may not
take it.
Not Now, Not About That — I need time or space, or this is too sensitive
a subject right now.
No Feedback — Our relationship rides on your ability to keep your
judgments to yourself.
When turning down feedback, use “and” to be appreciative, and firm.
Be specific about:
The request
The time frame
The consequences
Their assent
If you’re not changing, work to mitigate the impact on others.
Ask about the impact
Coach them to deal with the unchanged you
Problem solve together
11
NAVIGATE THE CONVERSATION
In 1995, Toy Story hit theaters and forever changed animated movies.
Although the technology had been in development since the mid-1970s,1
Toy Story was the first feature-length film to use computer animation to
bring the characters to life. Rather than drawing each frame anew, computer
animators create what are called “keyframes”—or key moments—in the
action. The computer then fills in the movement between the keyframes.
The animators assistant, called the inbetweener, then refines the ’tweening
to create smooth and natural action.
KEYFRAMES OF THE CONVERSATION
The concept of keyframes is useful for talking about feedback
conversations. Whether we are givers or receivers, we can’t “script” the
conversation, and when we try, our counterparts have an irritating tendency
not to follow the lines we’ve written for them. But we can recognize some
keyframes—stages and moments in the conversation that can serve as
landmarks. If you can identify the conversation keyframes, you can do your
own ‘tweening.
• • •
Much of this book focuses on our reactions to receiving feedback. We’ve
included communication advice along the way, but in this chapter we take a
closer look at how to handle the conversation itself. What should you say or
do to maximize the chances you will learn something valuable?
THE ARC OF THE CONVERSATION: OPEN-BODY-CLOSE
Broadly, feedback conversations are made up of three parts:
Open: A critical piece, oddly often skipped when we jump right in
without getting aligned: What is the purpose of the conversation?
What kind of feedback would I like, and what kind is my giver trying
to give? Is the feedback negotiable or final, a friendly suggestion or a
command?
Body: A two-way exchange of information, requiring you to master
four main skills: listening, asserting, managing the conversation
process, and problem solving.
Close: Here we clarify commitments, action steps, benchmarks,
procedural contracts, and follow-up.
Below we examine each part in more detail.
OPEN BY GETTING ALIGNED
Your performance review has been on the calendar for months, but that
dressing-down you got this morning was—as far as you know—not.
Whether the feedback is scheduled or spontaneous, clarifying a few things
up front in the conversation is crucial.
CLARIFY PURPOSE, CHECK STATUS
Below are three questions that will help you and your giver get aligned.
1. Is This Feedback? If So, What Kind?
That birthday sweater from your mother that is a size too small might be a
mistake—or a message. Not being put on the project team could be a
resource allocation decision—or it could be feedback.
Ideally you would have this thought: Oh, this isn’t just a regular
conversation. I might be receiving feedback. I’d better get into my
receiving-feedback mindset. As unnatural as this sounds, doing so will help
prevent the reflexive retorts or hasty retreats that can hurt your relationships
and diminish the opportunity for learning. If you’re aware, you can make
conscious choices about how to respond.
If it is feedback, is it evaluation, coaching, or appreciation? You won’t
always know, and your giver won’t either. So, ask yourself this: What kind
of feedback would be most useful to me right now? If at the age of eighty-
three you’re finally letting another human being read your first short story,
don’t just say “Give me some feedback” if what you actually need to stay
motivated is encouragement: “Can you just tell me your three favorite
things about it?”
Also ask yourself this: What is your givers purpose? What do they think
you need? Listen for the real underlying issue. Their feedback might sound
like forward-looking coaching for you (“You’d be better off if you didn’t
work so much. . . . ”) when what they really want you to hear is a deeper
concern about how they’re feeling (“Your relentless pace is having a
negative impact on the team”). Be alert for challenging mixes (coaching
with evaluation) and cross-transactions (I wanted coaching but you’re
giving me appreciation). You may have different purposes, and that’s okay
as long as you’re both aware of that and talk them through.
2. Who Decides?
You can have a good back-and-forth, you can disagree and problem solve—
even if one of you is the ultimate decision maker. But you both need to be
clear who that is. The graphic design you did for the Chicken Farmers’
Convention is the best thing you’ve ever done, but the organizers—your
customer—would like the chicken to be more realistic looking. You believe
this will distract from the iconic power of the chicken. You wrangle back
and forth and arrive at an impasse. Who decides? Were you getting the
customers input so that you could render the final design, or were they
getting your input so that they could make the final call?
It’s often unclear whether feedback is a suggestion or a command. When
your boss says that you should wear a tie to the event, is he giving you
some helpful career advice (“You can always take a tie off”), or is he
issuing an order (“Wear a tie or you’re fired”)? You may or may not choose
to comply, but you’ll certainly want to know which category the feedback
falls into.
There’s a related common mistake: Two people engage in a conversation
as if they need to reach an agreement, when in fact agreement isn’t
necessary. Ending a relationship, for example. If you break up with
someone and they give you feedback that you are a terrible person, the two
of you don’t need to reach consensus on this point. They think you acted
badly, and you believe you acted thoughtfully, and that’s where it can
remain. You are the decision maker about the relationship’s ending; you are
each your own storyteller about why it ended.
3. Is This Final or Negotiable?
If the feedback is an evaluation, determine its status: Is it final or
provisional? If your performance rating is final, it’s important to know that
up front. If it’s provisional, then you may be able to influence the final
outcome. Often, receivers waste time trying to influence a decision that has
already been made and cannot be reversed. If it’s a done deal, spend your
time understanding it and talking about effective ways to handle the
consequences going forward.
YOU CAN INFLUENCE THE FRAME AND AGENDA
We often assume that because we’re on the receiving end of feedback, our
role is simply to react to the feedback givers opening, like returning a serve
in tennis. But regardless of how the other person starts, you can use your
turn to frame the conversation constructively and to offer an agenda.
If the giver launches directly into the middle of a conversation, you can
say: “Can we take a minute to step back so that I’m clear on our purposes? I
want to be sure I’m on the same page as you.” If they level an accusation
that strikes you as off base and are in a stubborn “I’m right” frame, reframe
the issue as a difference between you: “I want to hear your perspective on
this, and then I’ll share my view, and we can figure out where and why our
views are different.”
The opening is important because it sets the conversation’s tone and
trajectory. MIT researchers have found a correlation between skilled
interaction during the first five minutes of a negotiation and good
outcomes.2 Research on married couples done by John Gottman shows that
if the first three minutes of a fifteen-minute conversation are harsh and
critical, and not corrected by the recipient, the outcome is negative 96
percent of the time. A key factor in happy marriages, Gottman says, is a
couple’s ability to change course, to make and respond to “repair attempts”
that break the cycle of escalation between them.3
Remember, correcting course up front is about process, not substance.
You’re not telling the feedback giver what they can or can’t say; you’re
working to clarify the mutual purpose of the conversation and suggesting a
two-way exploration. This helps you get aligned for the rest of the
conversation.
BODY: FOUR SKILLS FOR MANAGING THE CONVERSATION
There are four skills you need to navigate the body of the conversation:
listening, asserting, “process moves,” and problem solving.
Listening includes asking clarifying questions, paraphrasing the givers
view, and acknowledging their feelings. Asserting is a mix of sharing,
advocating, and expressing—in essence, talking. Don’t confuse asserting
with “asserting truth” or with being certain. You can be assertive about your
point of view even as you are aware that it’s your point of view and not
necessarily the entire story; you can be assertive about your ambivalence;
you can be assertive about feeling doubt. We’re using the term “asserting”
because it captures a sense of leaning in, of sticking up for yourself, though
without being combative.
The third skill involves process moves—hinges that turn the conversation
in a more productive direction. You are acting as your own referee, stepping
outside the conversation, noticing where you and the giver are stuck, and
suggesting a better direction, topic, or process. Getting good at the oft-
neglected art of process moves can have a huge impact on the success of
your interactions.
Finally, problem solving turns to the question: Now what? Why does this
feedback matter, and what should one or both of us do about it? You assert
that I am too risk averse. And maybe I am, but not to the degree you
suggest. It’s important that we discuss this, but merely talking it through
doesn’t end the matter. We need to make a decision together about whether
to invest in this new venture, and that will require problem-solving skills.
We present these four skills in a stepwise fashion, starting with listening
and arriving triumphantly at problem solving. But real conversations are
rarely so neatly ordered. They tend to jump around, and that’s okay. The
order in which you use the skills is less important than that you use them.
All the listening in the world can’t make up for failing to assert the one
issue that matters to you, and there’s nothing you can assert that will make
up for failing to listen to what really matters to them. And if there are
problems to be solved, but you put them off, the glow of understanding will
soon fade, and you’ll wonder what all that talking actually accomplished.
LISTEN FOR WHAT’S RIGHT (AND WHY THEY SEE IT DIFFERENTLY)
Advice about listening is white noise. It’s so common and so boring that we
no longer even hear it. But if you’re drifting off, this would be a good time
to wake up. Listening may be the most challenging skill involved in
receiving feedback, but it also has the biggest payoff.
Your Internal Voice Is Crucial
If you think you and your giver are having a one-on-one chat, think again.
You have each brought along your “internal voice,” the running stream of
thoughts and feelings you have during the conversation in reaction to what’s
going on. (Your internal voice is going even now. See if you can hear it. It
might be saying, “What? I don’t have an internal voice!”)
Our internal voice is often fairly quiet, especially when we’re absorbed
in what someone is saying. But when we disagree with what they’re saying,
or feel emotional, our internal voice gets louder and demands more of our
attention. And when we’re listening to ourselves, we can’t also listen to
others.
You might figure that this is not much of an obstacle for you—you
weren’t even particularly aware of your internal voice, so how in the way
could it be?
Very in the way. Your fellow board member is saying something about
how you’re out of touch with the younger generation of employees, and
you’re thinking that’s just not true! Now your colleague has moved on to
say something else, but your internal voice is still making arguments about
how wrong his first point was. You don’t know what his new topic is
exactly, but it’s probably wrong, too.
Triggered: From Assistant to Bodyguard
Your internal voice is like a personal assistant whose job it is to make sure
no one bothers you: “Sorry, Ms. Goldstein is busy right now. She’s
absorbed in her own thoughts about how unfair you always are to her. You
might try coming back later.”
When you’re triggered, your internal voice goes from mere assistant to
armed bodyguard. When your boss, the head chef, yells, “If you can’t keep
up, get out of my kitchen!” your internal voice leaps to your defense and
shouts back (in your head): “If you’d equip this #*@$! kitchen properly,
maybe I’d have a chance!” The chef might get past your usual assistant, but
no one is getting past your bodyguard.
When Empathy Shuts Down
Recent brain research on empathy suggests that this bodyguard dynamic
isn’t all in our heads. Or rather, it actually is in our heads.
Tania Singer of the Institute of Cognitive Neuroscience in London uses
fMRI to examine the neural processes that seem to correlate with empathy.
Using couples, Singer and colleagues examined the brain activity of one
partner (the female) under two conditions. First, Singer administered an
electric shock to the woman, transmitted via an electrode taped to the back
of her hand, as she lay in the MRI machine, and mapped her brain activity
as she processed the experience of being shocked (we’re not sure Singer
gets a lot of repeat volunteers). Next, Singer administered the same kind of
hand-shock to the woman’s partner, who was seated nearby and in view.
Here’s what’s interesting: When watching her partner get shocked, the
woman demonstrated the same pattern of brain activity as when she herself
had been shocked.
The patterns weren’t entirely identical. When the woman was observing
her loved one being shocked, the parts of the brain that register physical
pain did not light up (she did not feel the physical pain itself). But the parts
of the brain that register the emotional experience of being shocked did
light up. This phenomenon is called a “mirror neuron response,” and it
suggests that human beings are wired for empathy.4
Extending her research, Singer wondered whether we always empathize
with others’ pain or perspective. The answer is no. Singer had people watch
a game in which some participants played fairly while others played
unfairly. Observers had a mirror neuron response when watching fair
players get shocked, but had no mirror neuron response when the unfair
players were shocked. In fact, in some subjects who watched unfair players
receive shocks, the part of the brain connected to pleasure and revenge lit
up instead.5 The bottom line? We are wired for empathy, but only toward
those who we believe are behaving well.
What does this have to do with feedback? When we are receiving
feedback that feels unfair or off base, when we feel underappreciated or
poorly treated, our empathy and curiosity may be neurologically turned off.
So listening during a tough feedback conversation won’t come naturally.
Even those of us who are generous listeners in other contexts may have
trouble finding curiosity when we’re feeling triggered.
What Helps? Listen with a Purpose
If we’re going to be able to listen more effectively, it’s going to have to be
both on purpose and with a purpose. We’ll have to find or create some
curiosity—some tiny nudge that says that maybe the feedback in question
isn’t entirely unfair, that maybe the giver sees something we don’t, or at the
very least, their view is their view, and it might be useful for us to know.
Put simply, instead of wrong spotting, we need to listen for what’s right,
and be curious about why we see things so differently.
Prepare to Listen
Trigger Internal Voice
Truth “That’s wrong!”
“That’s not helpful!”
“That’s not me!”
Relationship “After all I’ve done for you?!”
“Who are you to say?”
“You’re the problem, not me.”
Identity “I screw up everything.”
“I’m doomed.”
“I’m not a bad person— or am I?”
Before getting feedback (if you have time to prepare), have a
conversation with your internal voice. There are a few things the two of you
need to get straight. Your task is not to scold your internal voice (“Don’t get
defensive”) or tamp it down (“Think whatever you want, but keep quiet”).
Just the opposite. Your internal voice gets loud because it wants your
attention. If you give it attention, it quiets down. So tune in to what it’s
saying, and work to understand it.
Find the Trigger Patterns
When you tune in to your internal voice, you’ll notice that there are
patterns; when we’re triggered, we don’t think just anything, we think
specific and predictable things. Knowing that gives us some traction on the
challenge of handling our triggers. There are endless variations, but each
kind of feedback trigger—truth, relationship, and identity—produces its
own characteristic internal voice patter.
And Then Negotiate
Once you identify your patterns, have a conversation with yourself. Your
goal is to hear your internal voice, learn to identify its triggered reactions,
and then engage it to help you feel curious. That conversation with yourself
might go like this:
You: During the feedback conversation, you’re going to be telling me
that what the giver is saying is wrong.
Internal Voice: Right. Because it will be wrong.
You: What will be wrong about it?
Internal Voice: All the usual things. They talked to the wrong people,
they’re interpreting it all the wrong way. They saw that one mistake
we made, but don’t appreciate all the other things we get right day
in and day out. I could go on.
You: Good to know you’re looking out for us. Let me ask you this:
What might be right about what they’re saying?
Internal Voice: Are you not listening to me? I just explained that
what they’ll be saying will be wrong.
You: I am listening. We’ll be mindful of those concerns. Even so, I’m
wondering what might be right about their feedback.
Internal Voice: Well, I suppose they could see things we don’t see.
That’s been known to happen. And their interpretation may be
different, but it could be valid. Also, they’ve been around the block
a few times. There’s that.
You: So there’s something to listen for.
Internal Voice: I suppose there’s a bit of mystery, yes. . . .
Not exactly Shakespeare, but you get the idea. Talk to your internal voice.
Acknowledge and appreciate it (they’re your own thoughts, after all).
Remind it that understanding doesn’t equal agreeing. Negotiate it toward
real curiosity. And finally, give it an assignment: I need you to be intensely
curious about what they’re saying. Help me dig in and understand. What’s
right about what they’re saying? Why is it that they see things differently?
Below is a chart that lists the common internal voice patterns and offers
ideas about what you’re listening for and what questions you might ask.
Listening’s Second Purpose: To Let Them Know You Hear Them
You aren’t listening to be polite. You aren’t listening because the giver is
right or because you’re necessarily going to accept or take the feedback.
And you aren’t listening because your own view doesn’t matter.
You are listening to understand. The first order of business is
archeological: You’re digging under labels, clarifying contours, and filling
in pieces you didn’t initially see. You’re assembling all the relevant
evidence and background to make sense of the size and shape of the
feedback from the givers perspective. After that you and your internal
voice can convene to decide what to do with what you’ve unearthed—how
it fits together with your own view, and whether or not you are going to
take their advice.
If understanding is purpose one, letting the giver know you understand
(or, just as important, that you want to understand) is purpose two.
Listening rewards the givers effort in taking the time to give you feedback,
and it leaves them feeling reassured that they have been clear. You may
need to have a later conversation about why you’ve decided not to take it,
and that might make them unhappy. But they can’t argue that you didn’t
take the advice seriously or that you didn’t understand it. And as a result,
they’re more likely to listen to you when you explain where you ultimately
landed and why.
Surprisingly, interrupting periodically (to ensure that you understand the
giver, rather than to assert your contrasting view) can be a sign that you are
listening well.6 So jump in: “Before you go further, can you just say more
about what you mean by ‘unprofessional’? I want to be sure I’m tracking
what you’re describing. . . .” Clarifying as you go can be helpful to both of
you.
Beware Hot Inquiry
Something to watch for: In an effort to keep listening even when we’re
upset, our questions may become “hot”—inquiry in punctuation only,
heated by the affront and frustration we’re struggling to contain. Our
feelings leak out into our “questions” and we end up saying things like
“Why are you so stupid?” and “Do you actually believe that?” Both of these
sentences have question marks at the end, but neither is a real question.
Inquiry is determined by the intention of the speaker, and the intention of
both these “questions” is to assert and persuade (or vent and attack), not to
understand.
Sarcasm is always inconsistent with true inquiry (“No, no, I love getting
eviscerating feedback from you. Do you have more?”), as are questions that
cross-examine (“But isn’t it true that . . . ?” “If so, how do you
explain . . . ?”). These are external signs of the wrestling match going on
between you and your internal voice. Your internal voice is saying, “Can
you believe this guy? Let me at ’em!” and you are replying, “Hold up!
We’re supposed to be asking questions!” The result is “inquiry” that’s
loaded with frustration and assertion.
What to do, then, when you are experiencing strong feelings? If you’re
overwhelmed, don’t try to fight through it and inquire. Instead, assert.
Replace hot inquiry like this: “Do you actually think that what you’re
saying is consistent or fair?” with a thoughtful assertion like this: “What
you’re suggesting seems inconsistent with the criteria you’ve used for
others in my position. That doesn’t seem fair to me.” You can then circle
back to listening: “Are there aspects of this that I’m missing?”
Assert what you have to assert. It makes listening easier and more
effective.
ASSERT WHAT’S LEFT OUT
It seems paradoxical to talk about assertiveness in the context of receiving
feedback. But feedback is not simply a thing the giver hands you and you
receive. The two of you are building a puzzle—together. They have some of
the pieces, and you have some of the pieces. When you don’t assert, you are
withholding your pieces. Without your point of view and feelings the giver
is unaware of whether what they’re saying is helpful, on target, or in line
with your experiences. There’s no problem solving, no adjusting, and no
indication of whether you understand the feedback, how you might use it,
or why trying it out is more challenging or risky than they assume.
Your assertions will often be in response to the givers feedback, but not
always. You might be asked to begin a performance review with a self-
assessment. But at some point, by definition, you will be getting feedback
and you will have things to say in response.
Shift from “I’m Right” to “Here’s What’s Left Out”
Effective assertion hinges on a key mindset shift: You aren’t seeking to
persuade the giver that you are right. You’re not trying to replace their truth
with your truth. Instead, you’re adding what’s “left out.” And what’s most
often left out is your data, your interpretations, and your feelings. As long
as you’ve made that shift, you can assert anything that’s important to you.
With both sets of puzzle pieces on the table, you can begin to see where the
two of you see things the same and differently, and why.
Common Assertion Mistakes
Below, we look at common assertion mistakes produced by the three
triggers—truth, relationship, and identity.
Truth Mistakes
The most common pitfall is slipping back into a “truth” mindset.
Pitfall: “That advice is wrong.”
Better: “I disagree with that advice.”
Why does this seemingly small distinction matter? Because it keeps the
topic of the conversation where it belongs. If you say, “That advice is
wrong,” the giver will simply respond by explaining again why it’s right. If
you say, “I disagree with that advice,” the giver can’t argue with the fact
that you happen to have an opinion on the matter. You do. All that is left is
to figure out why you see it differently. You might say this: “We had a
different approach in the last place I worked, and we had fewer problems
than we do here.” The giver doesn’t know what succeeded at your last job;
you don’t know what they have tried in the past here. That’s the
conversation to have.
Talking in terms of difference doesn’t mean that facts aren’t involved;
facts are often at the heart of the conversation. You need to know what the
sales numbers are before you can decide what they mean. But deciding
what they mean is probably the tougher, and more important, task.
Relationship Mistakes
The big relationship assertion pitfall is switchtracking. You can avoid that
by noticing that there are two topics, and giving each topic its own track.
Pitfall: “You’re a self-centered jerk.”
Better: “I’m feeling underappreciated, so it’s hard for me to focus on
your feedback. I think we need to discuss how I’m feeling, as well
as the feedback itself.”
If you say the first line, you’ll likely start a fight. If you say the second,
you’ll likely cause the giver to wonder what crazy books you’ve been
reading. But that’s preferable (usually) to the fight.
A second common pitfall is about systems, blame, and contribution:
Pitfall: “This is not my fault. I’m not the real problem here.”
Better: “I agree that there are things I’ve contributed to this. I’d also
like to step back to look at the bigger picture together, because I
think there are a number of other inputs that are important for us to
understand if we’re going to change things.”
Again, the first response is likely to start an argument about who the
problem is. The second signals willingness to take responsibility for your
contribution, while pointing out that you are not in this alone.
Identity Mistakes
When we’re off balance or overwhelmed, our assertions are more likely to
tip into exaggeration.
Pitfall: “It’s true. I’m hopeless.”
Better: “I’m surprised by all this and it’s a lot to take in. I want to take
some time to think about it and digest what you’ve said. Let’s come
back to it tomorrow.”
When you’re feeling overwhelmed, it’s unlikely that you will represent your
views in a clear or balanced way. In your effort to regain some balance, you
may take far more than your share of the responsibility for a problem, or
simply project amplified hopelessness and insecurity. Better to be open
about the fact that you’re surprised by the feedback and want time to figure
out what it means for you.
A second common pitfall occurs when your internal voice is hard at work
keeping the feedback out:
Pitfall: “That’s ridiculous. I’m not that kind of person.”
Better: “That’s upsetting to hear, because it’s not how I see myself or
who I want to be.”
You can signal that the information doesn’t fit with how you see yourself
without saying the information is wrong. And you can vow to figure it out
without saying the information is right.
BE YOUR OWN PROCESS REFEREE
For many years, when we taught communication workshops, we focused on
how to listen and assert. If that approach didn’t provide 100 percent of what
people needed to know, it seemed close enough.
But we started to notice something interesting. When we observed
people who were particularly skilled at communicating, they seemed to be
using a third skill that we couldn’t quite put our finger on.
Then it hit us. They were not only in the conversation, they were also
actively and explicitly managing the conversation. Supercommunicators
had an exceptional ability to observe the discussion, diagnose where it was
going wrong, and make explicit process interventions to correct it. It was as
though they were functioning in two roles at once: They weren’t just
players in the game, they were also referees.
Process Moves: Diagnose, Describe, Propose
These people sense precisely where they are in a conversation, including
the stage they are in and the common challenges in that stage. They have
the ability to diagnose on the fly where the conversation is getting stuck and
how to move it forward—not to manipulate things to their own advantage,
but for the sake of clear communication. They are willing to be
hyperexplicit, perhaps sometimes even awkwardly so, in their effort to get
things back on track.
Whatever your natural skill level, you can get better at these kinds of
process moves with awareness and practice. We ourselves have gotten
better by listening attentively to what process moves sound like, and so can
you:
“We’re both making arguments, trying to persuade the other, but I
don’t think either of us is listening to, or fully understanding, the other.
I know I’m not doing a good enough job of trying to understand what
your concerns are. So tell me more about why this is so important to
you and to the shop steward.”
“I see two issues here, and we’re jumping back and forth between
them. Let’s focus on one at a time. The first is that you’re upset
because you think I didn’t tell you about my upcoming trip to D.C. and
I’m upset because I think I did. The other is that you’re worried about
how you’re going to manage the kids’ schedules while I’m gone. Do
you agree, and if so, which do you want to talk about first?”
“You’re saying I’ve been treating Mom unfairly, and that any normal
person would know that. I disagree with both parts of that: I don’t
think I treat Mom unfairly, and I don’t think ‘any normal person’
would think I do. I’m not saying my view is right and yours is wrong.
I’m saying we see it differently. I wonder if there are aspects of how
you see this that I’m not fully understanding, as opposed to simply
disagreeing with? What would you add?”
“I’m shocked by this. My internal voice is saying, ‘My God, this is not
a question of interpretation. That simply did not happen that way!’
You seem upset as well and might be thinking the same. I’d like to take
a break and come back to this in a couple of hours after we’ve both
had time to calm down.”
“Okay, we’re deadlocked. We both need to agree on this, and we don’t.
Your solution is that I should give in. As a process, that doesn’t feel
fair to me. On the other hand, I don’t know how to break this
deadlock, so we’ve got to figure it out. What’s a fair and efficient way
to decide when we don’t agree?”
All of these examples have two things in common. The first is that none of
the comments are about the substance of the discussion per se. Each
contains an observation about some aspect of the process that is stuck or off
track. And each contains a suggestion for how to move forward or an
invitation to problem solving.
The second is that they all sound slightly awkward—not how regular
people talk. And paradoxically, that’s one of the reasons these kinds of
interventions can be so powerful. A referee stops the flow of the game to
make adjustments, and that’s precisely the goal of a process move. You are
pausing the action of the conversation to step back and consider how it’s
going and how you might correct course. These moves can short-circuit an
escalating cycle of frustration or disagreement, and they give both people a
chance to make a purposive choice about how to go forward together.
PROBLEM SOLVE TO CREATE POSSIBILITIES
We’ve been talking about how to understand feedback and how to
metabolize it in a way that is useful rather than destructive or dismissive.
But there’s often a next question at the heart of receiving feedback well:
Now what? What’s the point of all this hard work to understand feedback
anyway? What are you going to do with it?
This can be a challenging question, especially if you and the giver
disagree on what the feedback means or what should happen as a result.
When there’s conflict over this, you need strong problem-solving skills. To
most people’s surprise, being good at problem solving is not just a matter of
being “clever” or even “creative.” There are specific skills—questions to
ask, ways to approach things—that make a difference.
Create Possibilities
Sometimes, even when we believe the feedback is right, we feel that there’s
not much we can do about it. It’s dispiriting. It might be feedback about
deep-seated personality traits or physical appearance (if you are told you are
too tall for the leading man role, your efforts to adjust your height will
inevitably come up, well, short). Or taking the feedback would require such
major upheavals in lifestyle or habits or workload that you aren’t sure
they’d be worth the effort, or doubt that you would succeed even if you
tried.
But we can often create new possibilities even where there don’t seem to
be any. We saw an example of this in Alita’s obstetrics office in chapter 7.
Alita’s patients complained that she often ran late. Alita felt not only
discouraged, but stuck. Without some major structural overhaul to her
practice, running late was going to be a periodic feature of the patient
experience.
The patients have a preferred solution for the problem: Run on time. But
they have another interest as well. They want to understand why
appointments get backed up, and each still wants attentiveness when her
own time comes. This is why a sign in the waiting room explaining why
appointments run late actually meets some of the patients’ real concerns.
They understand the process. They feel acknowledged. They see that the
issue is not that the doctor doesn’t care, but that she cares a lot.
Finding possibilities requires two things: attentive listening for the
interests behind the feedback, and the ability to generate options that
address those interests. This can transform your feedback conversations
from arguments about whether the givers ideas are “the right way to go” to
explorations of what they’re trying to accomplish and how to get there.
Dig for Underlying Interests
In Getting to Yes, Roger Fisher, William Ury, and Bruce Patton make a
distinction that is crucial to problem solving: the difference between
interests and positions. Positions are what people say they want or demand.
Interests are the underlying “needs, desires, fears, and concerns” that the
stated position intends to satisfy.7 Often interests can be met by a variety of
options, some different from what anyone sees at the outset.
Advice often shows up as a position: It’s the givers best idea for what to
do differently. You often run late? Be on time. You micromanage? Cut it
out.
Listening for the underlying interests gives you more room to maneuver.
Consider the story of Earl, a social worker who helps disabled children and
their families. Earl wears his hair in a ponytail, has a long, scruffy beard,
and is missing his two front teeth. Although he is extremely good at his job,
his unorthodox appearance caused some families to take some time to feel
comfortable with him.
Earl’s supervisor suggested that he cut his hair and trim his beard. Earl
refused, and countered that people who would prejudge him for his
unconventional appearance were no different from people who prejudge a
child because of their disability. It was a fair enough point, but it didn’t
change the fact that Earl’s appearance injected tension into an already
challenging situation.
Earl’s supervisor took this position: “Clean up your appearance.” But
Earl heard through that for the underlying concern: “We want families to
feel comfortable with you more quickly.” Earl shared this interest and
suggested another way to address it. He asked his supervisor to describe
him a bit differently to new families before he met them. In addition to
presenting his professional credentials, he suggested that she add a few
words about his being a semiprofessional bluegrass banjo player.
This one additional fact about Earl put his appearance into a context that
the families understood. Instead of being surprised or put off by his
appearance, they were intrigued. Many connected with him on the subject
of music and came quickly to appreciate that his appearance attested to his
courage to be himself in the world—a lesson he was effectively teaching
both them and their children.
When you’re at an impasse—when what a giver suggests is difficult for
you or even unacceptable—ask about the underlying interests behind the
suggestion.
Three Sources of Interests Behind Feedback
The interests behind coaching or evaluation typically fall into one of three
buckets, and each suggests a different direction to go in creating options:
Helping you. The giver sees ways you could improve and
opportunities to accelerate your growth or learning curve. Or perhaps
they want to protect you from potential problems or dangers that they
see, but you don’t. Their goal is to help you.
Helping themselves and the relationship. The giver may be
giving you feedback because they feel upset, lonely, angry,
disappointed, or hurt by you. Instead of saying, “I feel neglected,”
they say, “You travel too much.” The feedback is about you and your
behavior, certainly. But the interests involved are not necessarily
obvious: You could make a concerted effort to travel less and then go
hunting more. You believe you “took” their coaching; they know you
missed the point.
Helping the organization/team/family/someone else. Sometimes
feedback is motivated by helping or protecting someone, or
something, beyond the two of you. Your boss can’t give you a higher
rating because it wouldn’t be fair to others. Your best friend doesn’t
really care that you often forget to pay her back, but knows that a
mutual friend is really upset when you forget to repay him. So she
steps in to raise the issue with you.
To solve the real problem, you have to understand the real interests. And to
understand the real interests, you have to dig behind the stated positions and
identify which bucket the interests fall into.
Generate Options
Once you’ve got a handle on the underlying interests (and whose interests
are actually involved), you can turn to the next step, which is creating
options. Life is easier when you find options that meet your interests as well
as those of the feedback giver.
It’s useful to be explicit about what you’re trying to accomplish. You can
name the different interests and invite the other person to think with you
about ways of meeting them. The number one reason we don’t come up
with good options is that we simply don’t think to try. So, try.
As in Earl’s case, some options solve the whole problem and fully meet
whatever the feedback givers interests are. Other options are “process”
options. We’ll try it your way and then take stock; we’ll trade off; I’ll draw
the chicken more realistically, and then we can show both to the organizing
committee and see what they think. You don’t need to have a final
determination about the feedback. Whether or not the feedback is fair is as
yet undetermined; what you agree on now is a process for moving forward
that feels fair to both of you.
CLOSE WITH COMMITMENT
How do we know a feedback conversation is over? Often it’s when
someone gives up, walks out, shuts down, or when time runs out. Even
when the conversation goes well, we often skip a crucial last step: figuring
out what we’ve agreed to and what to do next. If we’re not explicit, we
often end up disappointed by the lack of progress, or confused about the
other person’s lofty expectations. Both giver and receiver wonder why they
spent so much time on the matter to begin with, when nothing ever changes.
Closing with commitment can be as short as a sentence: “I want to think
about what you’ve said, and let’s talk tomorrow.” It doesn’t mean you have
to agree with the feedback or make promises to change. You can, of course,
but you can also commit to gathering more information or bringing others
into the conversation or seeing how things go in the next two weeks or
describing exactly which parts of the feedback you have decided not to
take. The goal is clarity. You should both know where things stand.
Depending on the formality of the context, here are a few different kinds
of things you can firm up as you wrap up:
Action Plans: Who does what tomorrow? What, if anything, is
each party going to change or work on, and what do you each agree to
do to make that happen?
Benchmarks and Consequences: How will progress be measured,
and when? Consider discussing what impact, positive and negative,
measuring will have. Also, discuss the consequences, if any, if
benchmarks are not met.
Procedural Contracts: In addition to promises about the substance
of what will change, you might make agreements on the process for
working on them. When do we talk again, and about what? You may
agree to gather more input from the client, the board, the neighbors,
the market. We may both vow not to discuss the matter in front of the
kids or the customer, or agree to give each other the benefit of the
doubt.
New Strategies: Whether at work or at home, the friction that
produces feedback often reflects differences between us that aren’t
going to go away. Rather than finding solutions in these cases we
should often be looking for strategies—new ways of working around
each others foibles and failures, forgetfulness, or fiery tempers. At the
end of the conversation, articulate the ideas you’ve generated for how
to accommodate each other more successfully, and again, make sure
you each know exactly what you’re agreeing to.
Remember: Feedback conversations are rarely one-shot deals. They are
usually a series of conversations over time, and as such, signposting where
you stand, what you’ve accomplished, and what you’ll try next helps you
travel the road together.
PUTTING IT ALL TOGETHER: A CONVERSATION IN MOTION
As we’ve said, feedback conversations are unpredictable, and you’ll need to
deftly move among the skills we’ve described. Let’s take a look at an
evaluation conversation to get a sense of how you might use these skills in
motion.
AN EVALUATION CONVERSATION ABOUT RATINGS AND BONUSES
You’re in a year-end conversation with your head of function. The more
formal part of the meeting concerns bonuses, raises, and promotions. The
meeting also serves as a catchall opportunity to talk about anything
important: your thoughts on the previous year, your concerns for next year.
You were given a 4 out of 5 rating for the third year in a row. The bonus
awarded for a 5 is approximately double the bonus for a 4. You’re not
outraged, but you are frustrated. You were told last year that the big
differentiator between a 4 and a 5 is whether you’re bringing in customers
of your own rather than just running the division and serving the customers
of others. This year you made that a priority, and brought in twenty-three
new customer accounts, with contracts that raised your team’s revenue by
almost 20 percent.
Let’s look at four different ways you might handle the conversation. The
first three are variations on doing things less well; the fourth is more
effective. We’ll imagine in each case that the preliminaries are out of the
way and pick up the discussion at the point where you react to your rating
and bonus.
Version One
You Say: “This is just unfair. Last year I was told that I’d be rated a 5
if I brought in customers. I did that and now I’m still getting a 4.
Does anyone around here care about fairness?”
Analysis: We see four problems: (1) You are asserting that the
outcome is unfair, but you won’t actually know if it’s unfair until
you’ve discussed it further. It could be that you didn’t bring in
enough accounts, or that they were too small, or that the criteria
changed, or that you didn’t make it clear to anyone that you’d
originated these accounts, or that you misunderstood what was said
last year, or that other factors militated against a 5 even though your
customer work was good. After further conversation, you might
still conclude that the assessment is not fair, but you might not. (2)
“Unfair” is stated as a truth rather than as your perception. (3) The
comment about anyone’s caring is a personal attack based on an
attribution that you know little about. It could be that many people
do care about fairness, or that several advocated strongly on your
behalf. (4) Your comment is inexact. You were not told that if you
brought in customers you’d definitely get a 5; you were told that a
big differentiator between a 4 and a 5 is bringing in customers.
Result: Your boss might get hooked by any number of these
problems. Before you know it, she’ll be defending her identity as a
fair person, and an argument about “how your boss is” won’t help
resolve the issue you care about.
Version Two
You Say: “Well, okay. I think 4 is a little low, but I suppose it’s fine.”
Analysis: This comment is both unclear and passive-aggressive.
You’re effectively saying, “I’ll raise my concern just enough to
make you wonder what I think, but not so much that I take
responsibility for having raised it or that I’m clear about my actual
view.” Talk about it or don’t—but don’t “sort of” talk about it.
Result: Your boss will either not notice that you’re raising a
legitimate concern or be annoyed by the passive-aggressive tenor of
it. Either way, you don’t learn why you got a 4 or what you should
change, and it may negatively affect what your boss thinks of you.
Version Three
You Say: “Wow, I was thinking I’d get a 5. Is there any way it can be
changed?”
Analysis: There’s nothing wrong with saying you thought you’d get a
5, because you did think that. But, again, you don’t yet understand
why you got a 4, so a request to change it is premature. After the
discussion you may agree that a 4 is the appropriate rating, or you
may think you deserve a 5. If so, with what you’ve learned, you’ll
be able to articulate your reasoning.
Result: Your boss says “no.” End of story. End of learning. End of
chance to influence. Or, your boss says she’ll consider it, but has no
new information or way of thinking about the matter that would
make any difference.
Version Four: A More Skillful Conversation
Your goal is to assert that you are surprised and disappointed and to explain
why. At this point in the conversation you are not asserting that the rating is
unfair or requesting that it be changed, nor are you judging the overall
system or the people making the decisions.
You want to inquire into several things: You want to learn more about the
criteria and how they were applied in your case. You want to understand the
relationship between what you were told last year about customers and the
current criteria. You want to know if anything has changed, and what other
data—about peers, the market, pressures from above—might be relevant.
Once you’ve gotten a better sense of that information, you may or may
not feel the rating and bonus were fair, and you may or may not want to
raise that issue. If you do conclude that the rating is unfair, you would
express that as your own view, not as an objective fact. You should also be
explicit about whether you would like to revisit the actual rating or you are
having the discussion simply to help you understand the system, perhaps
with an eye toward next year.
We’ll assume your boss hasn’t read this book and is a little slow to
understand what you’re trying to do. So you’ll have to be persistent.
You: I’m surprised that I got a 4 instead of a 5. But I don’t actually
know much about the decision-making process or the criteria that
are used.
Boss: You think you deserve a 5?
You: Yes, I was thinking that, but as I reflect on it, I realize that that
wasn’t based on very much information. I was told at last years
review that one of the differentiators was bringing in new accounts,
so I worked hard to land twenty-three new customers and that
increased our revenue by almost 20 percent. I was assuming that
was enough for a 5, but I don’t have a clear sense of the criteria.
Also, there could be other factors involved that I’m not aware of.
Boss: I think a 4 is very good.
You: Well, I appreciate that. It’s still important to me to understand
better how the decisions are made.
Boss: You think it’s unfair?
You: I don’t have enough information to judge. Can you tell me what
factors are weighed in determining the rating? And can you say
what role new accounts and revenue play in the rating?
[The boss explains the rating system at some length, with you
interrupting periodically to clarify the process, terms, etc., until it’s
clear to you.]
You: Based on what you’ve just explained about the criteria, and
assuming there were no other factors, I do think I should have
received a 5. Do you see it differently?
Boss: In terms of revenue and customers, I would agree. But it’s not
an exact science. Different people on the compensation committee
may take slightly different factors into account.
You: I can only imagine how much work it is to sort this all out. Were
there additional factors that are relevant for me?
Boss: A few members of the committee raised questions about your
overall commitment. They have no problem with me sharing that,
but I didn’t mention it to you because I disagree with them. I think
it’s a nonissue and it would do you a disservice to emphasize that
or, really, even to mention it.
You: Of course it’s upsetting to hear, but it’s helpful to know. It tells
me that whether or not you or I think I’m dedicated, I’m coming
across at least to some people in a way that is raising some
questions.
Boss: Well, I suppose I could go back to the committee and see
whether there’s any wiggle room on your rating. I suspect there
isn’t, but I can check.
You: Well, how would that be perceived by the committee?
Boss: As you’d guess, there are a number of people who are going to
whine about their compensation no matter what it is. But
occasionally we really do need to reconsider.
You: Well, for the moment, I’d like to leave the rating alone. Would it
be okay if I talked to someone from the committee who has
concerns about my commitment? I’d like to learn more about that
perception before I decide whether to pursue changing the rating.
The conversation continues as you both explore options and nail down
commitments on how to go forward. But you’ve done a good job of
working to understand the feedback and demonstrating a willingness to
learn from it.
And the ability to learn from feedback is what will shape your future
most.
12
GET GOING
Five Ways to Take Action
Here we include a handful of ideas for getting moving—quick ways to
solicit feedback, to test out the advice you’re getting, to accelerate your
learning, and to gauge your progress.
NAME ONE THING
It’s his first performance review under the new system, and Rodrigo’s head
is spinning with charts, graphs, competencies, and comments. Rodrigo is
overwhelmed, and confused about what he’s actually supposed to do
differently.
At least he doesn’t have to contend with chocolate chip cookies.
Subjects in a recent experiment were not so lucky. Participants were
asked to skip a meal before arriving at the laboratory. They entered the lab
one by one, where chocolate chip cookies had been baking in a small oven,
saturating the room with the rich aroma. Half of the subjects were asked to
eat two or three cookies, while the other half were asked to refrain from the
cookies and instead eat two or three radishes.
Later, all were asked to solve a series of geometry problems, requiring
them to trace figures without lifting the pencil; they were given infinite
attempts and plenty of paper. Those asked to resist the cookies (and eat the
radishes) gave up twice as quickly, after about half the number of attempts
as their counterparts. Researcher Roy Baumeister and colleagues say that
the attention and effort that goes into resisting temptation (or forcing new,
less-appealing behavior) leaves less energy, attention, and persistence
available to complete other tasks.1
This has important implications for our efforts to act upon the feedback
we get to change behavior and habits. Feedback can be accurate, timely,
perceptive, and beautifully conveyed, but if it involves too many ideas to
keep track of, too many decisions to sort through, too many changes to
make, it’s simply too much. Our capacity to attend to change is a limited
resource. Hence, less is more (more or less).
So keep it simple, and here’s how: Name one thing. At the end of the day,
is there one thing you and the giver (or givers) see as most important for
you to work on? It should be something meaningful and useful, but don’t
get paralyzed by that. It doesn’t have to be the one perfect thing. That sends
you right back to no things. Just a useful thing. A place to start.
ASK: “WHAT’S ONE THING YOU SEE ME DOING THAT GETS IN MY OWN WAY?”
How to elicit just one thing? Don’t say, “I’d like some feedback.” That’s too
vague. Instead say: “What’s one thing I could work on?” Or, as we discuss
in chapter 4, you can sharpen it by asking: “What’s one thing you see me
doing, or failing to do, that’s getting in my own way?” This gives your
giver permission to go a little further than usual (hey, you did ask), and it
helps them prioritize and cut to the chase.
Of course, emergencies are emergencies; if your hair and pants are on
fire, the one-thing formula doesn’t quite fit. And don’t use “name one
thing” as a way to simply dismiss someone’s concerns. You may not be able
to work on ten concerns, but if your giver has ten concerns, they have them.
Work to understand and validate them, and then swing back around and set
priorities: “You’ve raised a number of different issues, and we’ve discussed
why each is important. I’m serious about improving, and it’s been my
experience that the best way for me to do that is to focus on one thing at a
time. Let’s figure out a good place for me to start.”
It’s not always easy. When your youngest daughter offers you feedback,
she’s not going to react well when you tell her you’ve already received your
“one thing” for the month from her older sister. So, depending on how big
or challenging the changes, you can work on a few at a time, especially if
they are on different fronts. You can be working on being more patient with
your oldest and more consistent with your youngest. In aiming for one,
you’re setting expectations: Let’s focus.
LISTEN FOR THEMES
Rodrigo’s feedback report contained dozens of comments and suggestions,
and three highlighted “areas of improvement.” Most of the feedback was
vague and label-y (for example, at the mean on “empathy,” below the mean
on “engagement”). In the end, it was the sheer volume of the feedback that
left him at a loss for where to begin.
So Rodrigo put aside the report and set off on his own mission. He chose
three people he worked closely with in different roles, and threw in his boss
and a coworker he found particularly irritating. He went to each and asked
this question: “What’s one thing I’m doing that you think gets in the way of
my own effectiveness?” He asked follow-up questions to clarify. The
longest conversation took ten minutes.
Rodrigo knew that he’d end up with more than “one thing” to consider,
but he looked for themes. Here are the headlines based on his
conversations:
Let us know where you stand sooner.
You hang back and let others dominate the conversation. Given your
unique background, we need you to weigh in earlier.
Be more visible at HQ.
I can’t tell when you’ve made a decision. If you have, tell us so we can
move on.
The way I think you shoot yourself in the foot is by being disorganized.
Of the five people he talked to, three went straight to his tendency as a team
leader to hang back and let conversation run. Until he received this
feedback, that shortcoming wasn’t even on his radar. (In retrospect he
realized that it had been mentioned in his feedback report, but if you hadn’t
already been looking for it, you’d never have seen it buried in the data.) In
fact, until now, he thought he had the opposite challenge: He worried that
he was not giving the team enough input into decisions and was working
hard at inclusiveness. After talking to colleagues, he discovered that there
were times when he needed to give more direction and be clear about when
he had made up his mind, so that they could move on to discussing
implementation.
So Rodrigo has decided his one thing for the next month is to work on
speaking up and providing more direction. One colleague offered a
particularly helpful bit of coaching: “She suggested that I be willing to go a
little overboard. If I do, she promised to tell me. If I’m less worried about
going too far, I’ll improve quicker.”
ASK WHAT MATTERS TO THEM
One last way to seek out one change that could have a big impact is to ask:
“What’s one thing I could change that would make a difference to you?”
Sharon posed this question to her three young boys over dinner: “I’ve been
under a lot of pressure at work, and I keep asking you for more help and
understanding. But let’s turn the tables. What’s one thing I could do
differently that would help you guys?”
Sharon couldn’t imagine any useful answer to this question. She figured
that if there were an easy fix, she’d already be doing it. Eight-year-old
Aidan yelled out, “more Skittles,” which sparked a fight between Aidan and
twelve-year-old Owen, who not unreasonably thought “more Skittles” was a
stupid answer. Not a strong start to the conversation.
Then ten-year-old Colin spoke up: “We never go bowling anymore.”
This struck Sharon as only marginally better than “more Skittles,” but
she could see that Colin was serious. “So you miss bowling?” she asked.
“Not that much,” said Colin.
Baffled, Sharon said, “So tell us why you mention bowling.”
Colin had an answer: “It’s the only time the four of us ever do anything
together, with just us, and we haven’t done it for a year.” He was right.
Foursome time mattered less to his more social brothers, but it mattered a
lot to Colin, and Sharon hadn’t noticed. Sharon called the alley and reserved
a lane.
One question, one thing.
TRY SMALL EXPERIMENTS
Sometimes you are clear about whether you want to take the feedback: Now
that I understand what you’re suggesting, I think it’s a fantastic idea and I
can’t wait to dive in. Or: Now that I understand what you’re suggesting, I’m
going to go ahead and say no (painting my living room black—it’s not the
right look for me). And sometimes we fall somewhere in the middle, unsure
if it’s a good idea or not. I’ll table it for now and I’ll come back to it,
perhaps if I get reincarnated as someone with free time.
In any event, we try to be analytical about the feedback we get,
considering pros and cons, weighing different options, and finally doing
what makes sense. But here’s the challenge: In any contest between change
and the status quo, the status quo has home field advantage. All things
being equal, we won’t change.
Emily is a good example. Her nonprofit, which supports young parents
and teaches parenting skills, was built from the ground up, with hard work
and a vision as big as the world. Her message is inspirational and her ideas
important.
Reaction to her two-hour public sessions has been overwhelmingly
positive. But time and again she gets feedback from coworkers, guest
speakers, and parents that her twenty-minute introduction to the
organization and its work at the beginning of her talk is too long. She
should jump right into the evening’s activities.
For five years Emily resisted these suggestions. After all, she was a great
speaker, she knew how to motivate people, the workshops got strong
reviews, and she’d been successful doing it her way. There was just no
reason to change things up until now.
When things are going well, feedback can feel threatening, and not just
because it suggests we have something to learn or aren’t yet perfect. It’s
threatening because it is asking us to let go of something that’s comfortable
and predictable. We’re already doing just fine, and even if we’re not, at
least we’re aware of the consequences. I know I’m late for everything, but
so far it hasn’t had a disastrous impact on my life. The guests didn’t have to
wait that long, and in the end, we got married, didn’t we?
DON’T DECIDE, EXPERIMENT
Here’s our pitch: Experiment. Try the feedback out, especially when the
stakes are low and the potential upside is great. Not because you know that
it’s right or you know it will help. But because it’s possible it will help. And
because actions so often have unforeseen consequences, and trying new
things stirs the pot. And because you (we) don’t try new things often
enough.
Try It On
Sometimes you can do the experiment in your head.
Harpreet had been teaching for several years when he received a
shocking set of comments on a student evaluation: “The professor is
arrogant and condescending toward students. He is dismissive of their ideas
and concerns.”
Harpreet felt ill. This characterization could not be more out of step with
his values and self-image. Dedicated to fostering students’ growth in his
lab, he prided himself on his commitment to mentoring. He decided to
discuss the evaluation with his department head. “Look at these comments,”
he said to her. “I can’t understand how a student could say such a thing.”
She skimmed the comments and after a moment looked up and said,
“Well, try it on.” Harpreet was dumbfounded. He sputtered, “I’m not sure
what you mean.” “Try it on,” she repeated. “Assume the student is on to
something.”
“But the student is not on to something,” Harpreet protested, sort of
joking but mostly not.
“Sit with the possibility for a few days,” she suggested. “Not because
you already know it fits, but because it’s a good way of finding out. If it
doesn’t, no worries. Take it off. But if it does, even in some small way, then
it gives you something to work on.”
Trying on a piece of feedback in your mind’s dressing room can be
uncomfortable, but it’s a low-risk way of experimenting. Harpreet did try on
the feedback, and after considering it from different angles, he began to see
what the student might have meant. While he didn’t regard certain
comments that he had made as arrogant, he could see now how someone
might. This new perspective on himself—not “the truth,” but an alternate
way of seeing—proved enormously valuable for Harpreet and influenced
how he interacted with his students for the rest of his career. And he would
not have had access to it if he hadn’t taken a genuine run at trying it on as
true.
Try It Out
For years your spouse has been urging you to wake up earlier and do yoga
before going to work. There are two things you don’t like about this
suggestion: waking up early and yoga. You can’t see how trying it would
have any positive effect on your life. And you have a rule: “If you can’t see
how trying something would help, don’t try it.” Your spouse thinks you’re
being lazy, but you know you’re just being smart.
And then this thought pops into your head: I am fifty. If I live to be eighty
I will wake up roughly 11,000 more times. If I try yoga and don’t like it, I
will have 10,999 mornings remaining to wake up at my preferred time.
So one morning you wake up early and go to yoga. You are surprised to
learn that this yoga is different from the yoga of your youth. The instructor
said to you afterward, “I hope you didn’t injure yourself.” But despite this
“feedback,” you have to admit that you sort of liked it. And you certainly
liked the effect it seemed to have on the rest of your day. You decide to go a
few more times, just to test this out.
The one downside of this situation is that your spouse gets to be right,
and you have to admit you were wrong. But you protest: “I wasn’t wrong,
because it’s different yoga, and there’s no way I could have anticipated
that.” Exactly. That’s why such low-cost experiments are so great. You do
them even though you have misgivings, because you know that you are
occasionally wrong. Not as often as your spouse thinks, perhaps, but
occasionally.
You May Be Surprised
Dr. Atul Gawande is an accomplished surgeon, New Yorker writer, and
professor at Harvard Medical School. You’d figure if anyone was feeling at
the top of their game, it would be this guy.
But Gawande wondered if he could improve. So he hired a surgical
coach to observe him, looking for ways he might enhance both his surgical
technique and his already-commendable outcomes. He figured it was
possible the coach would see something he hadn’t.
The coach’s recommendations surprised Gawande. He had a number of
technical suggestions (“When you are tempted to raise your elbow, that
means you either need to move your feet or to choose a different
instrument.”).2 The coach was also able to point out some of Gawande’s
blind spots: The way he draped the patient for surgery gave Gawande a
perfect line of vision on the procedure but partially obstructed the view of
his assistant across the table. This was invisible to Gawande but instantly
obvious to the coach. And the coach “pointed out ways I had missed
opportunities to help the team perform better,” observes Gawande.3 The
impact of the advice was large. After following the coach’s ideas—a few at
a time over a number of months—Gawande has seen his complication rates
go down.
Gawande didn’t hire a coach because he knew he needed one, or foresaw
these particular improvements. He hired one because there didn’t seem to
be much downside in doing so, and the upside, though unclear, seemed
worth exploring. And it certainly proved worthwhile for his patients and for
his team, who saw him model an interest in and openness to continuous
learning and improvement.
IT’S NOT ALL-AND-ALWAYS
Lowering the stakes often means reframing the question you are asking
yourself when it comes to feedback. If the question is “Should I go to yoga
for the rest of my life?” the answer will always be no. If it’s “Should I try
yoga for one morning and see what I think?” the costs drop dramatically.
Emily heard the advice she was getting—cut out the twenty-minute
windup—as an all-and-always suggestion: Do your workshops entirely
differently for the rest of time. And by the way, it wouldn’t hurt if you
admitted you had been wrong all along.
Emily finally changed when she shifted away from the all-and-always
frame. While she wasn’t yet persuaded that scrapping the twenty minutes
spent on the big-picture vision was the right call, she decided to try it for
one night to see what happened. She welcomed the new parents and then
jumped right into the program.
The results of her experiment? There were a few awkward moments
when Emily lost her place without her regular script. And it turned out that
there were parts of her standard intro that she wanted to retain. But she did
find that the full twenty minutes weren’t really necessary: “Next time I’ll do
five minutes on what they really need to know and hand out something
written at the end for those who want more details.”
It’s not all-and-always. Just some-and-sometimes.
Some experiments will inevitably turn out to be a waste of time—that’s
why they’re called experiments. But in the aggregate, there are significant
life rewards for being willing to test out feedback even when you’re not
sure it’s right, or even pretty sure it’s wrong. At the very least, it shows the
giver you are open to trying their advice, and there are surely relationship
advantages to that.
RIDE OUT THE J CURVE
This is the story of Bernardus and the new customer tracking system. Stop
us if you’ve heard it before.
The head of sales has been after Bernardus for months to use the new
Web-based database that enables you to enter and retrieve data from
anywhere, and share information with everyone. If Bernardus goes on
vacation he won’t have to spend hours bringing someone up to speed on a
particular account; he’ll just give them the file name. And he will no longer
have to worry about finding those little scraps of paper with numbers and e-
mails and cryptic notations describing the customers priorities and
preferences.
It’s a wondrous system; Bernardus is convinced of its usefulness. But he
can’t get himself to actually make the switch. He starts using the system,
gets frustrated, and switches midway through a customer call. Or he uses
the system for a few days, and then forgets and realizes a week later that
he’s got hours of data to enter to catch up. His note-taking habits have been
years in the making and feel dependent on a pencil and trusty paper, no
matter how dog-eared. It’s not rational. It is resistant to change.
Sometimes we don’t do the right, smart, effective, healthy thing because
we don’t know what that is. But sometimes we know exactly what the right,
smart, effective, healthy thing is, and we still don’t do it.
TWO DECISION MAKERS
This isn’t a new problem. You remember the story of Odysseus? He’s
worried about being seduced by the sirens, whose songs have lured many a
sailor to shipwreck. Odysseus knows he won’t be able to make the right
choice once he’s in the midst of the straits and hears their alluring song. So
instead of relying on willpower exercised in that perilous moment, he has
his sailors tie him to the mast ahead of time. Odysseus “precommits” to
honoring his current desire, preventing his ability to waver when faced with
future temptation.
Homer was on to something about the challenges of making good
choices, potentially as useful to Bernardus as it was to Odysseus. Economist
Thomas Schelling says much of our puzzling behavior when it comes to
(failing to) keep our commitments to ourselves results from a kind of split
personality we all possess.4 We decide on Sunday night that come Monday
morning we will finally start that low-carb diet. So far so good. But when
Monday morning arrives, we are faced with choices: Should I enjoy my
usual breakfast muffin, or restrict myself to eggs and ham? Not green, but
without the carbs, almost as unappealing. Well, there’s really very little
difference between starting that diet today and starting tomorrow, or even
next week, for that matter.
So our Monday Morning self violates the agreement made by our Sunday
Night self. Mr. Sunday Night wants to stop procrastinating and start the
diet. He’s disgusted by Monday Morning guy’s refusal to change but what
can he do? Come Monday morning, Monday Morning guy is in charge.
So Mr. Sunday Night asks himself: Is there a way that I can not only
make the choice to change but also bind Monday Morning guy to abide by
my choice? There is. Mr. Sunday Night can change the terms of the choice
so that Monday Morning guy arrives at the “right” conclusion: We’re both
going to start that diet.
Mr. Sunday Night can do that in one of two ways: He can increase the
positive appeal of the desired change or increase the negative consequences
of not changing.
INCREASE THE POSITIVE APPEAL OF CHANGE
Let’s look first at how to make changing more appealing to Monday
Morning guy.
Make It Social
Unpleasant things are less unpleasant when you have company. Find a
friend, colleague, coach, or fellow aspiring dieter and suggest doing it
together. Agree on check-in times, e-mail reports of trials and triumphs,
have (low-carb) lunch to discuss progress. Commiserate. Coach, support,
honestly reflect.
An obvious reason that making it social helps is that it makes a task that
might not otherwise be fun, fun. Or a little bit fun, anyway. And combining
change with human connection recasts the emotional story of the effort. It’s
no longer “I’m suffering,” but “We are getting through it together.” Friends
have mutual closet-cleaning days; students study together; otherwise
solitary writers share office space.
A second reason is that it makes you accountable to someone else. You
might be okay letting yourself down, but now you have your friend to think
of, too. And finally, walking the journey alongside someone else can
provide appreciation. A dieting friend or newly hired personal trainer really
understands the sacrifices you are making. They witness your progress, see
you sweat, cheer your efforts. Their appreciation helps motivate you to stick
with it even when you are not particularly in the mood.
Extroverts are probably thinking this makes a lot of sense—they
typically get energy from being with other people. Introverts may be
hearing this suggestion as just one more burden—not only do I have to diet
or exercise, but now I have to meet people, too?
You can get the benefits without having to buddy up or join a rah-rah city
bicycling club. Online communities provide a place to check in, to get
empathy, gather useful tips, and be accountable, without having to get out
of your pajamas or endure awkward small talk. Communities have formed
on the Web for just about anything you might be dealing with—whether it’s
getting your spending under control, coping with the stress of caring for
your autistic child, or losing weight. Maybe Bernardus can find one—or
start one—for finally using that customer tracking software. After all, it is
wondrous.
Keep Score
Another way to increase the reward of keeping a commitment is to keep
score. Keeping score is a primary reason that video games are so addictive
—they offer an instant measure of your progress and an invitation to reset
and try again.
Shigeru Miyamoto is the creative force behind Nintendo’s best-selling
video games—the Mario Bros. franchise and The Legend of Zelda. When
Miyamoto turned forty, he decided to get in shape. He took up jogging and
swimming, and kept elaborate charts of his activity and his weight taped to
the bathroom wall. By “keeping score” this way, he shifted his workout
regimen from a self-improvement kick to a game.5
He did so for himself, and then for the rest of us: Miyamoto’s Wii Fit is
the third highest-selling console game of all time. A balance board weighs
you in, and your workout time and accomplishments are tracked as you jog
through island wonderlands or hula hoop. Introducing an element of play
can “get people to do things they might not normally do,” Miyamoto
explains. It’s a way to engage your playful self in facing a challenge and
solving problems. And keeping score is a way to set up those positive
feedback dopamine hits that entice you to keep trying.
Gamification6 has such pull that it’s now being used (not without
controversy) for everything from customer engagement to education. Many
middle school science teachers in Massachusetts encourage their students to
play JogNog, an online game in which students accrue points for answering
“towers” of science questions, with their accomplishments ranked
nationwide on a real-time leaderboard. Eighth grader Antoine, who had
previously declared science class “boring” and “too easy,” found himself
using scarce weekend screen time not for video games, but to complete
thousands of science questions. As he scanned the leaderboard, noting the
point gap between himself and the student above him, he mumbled, “Now I
have to pass him—just to keep my honor.” It’s not just about science
anymore.
The best games strike a “magical balance between the excitement of
facing new problems and the swagger from facing down old ones,” writes
Nick Paumgarten about Miyamoto’s Nintendo games. You can’t stay
motivated if you have to try your hardest all the time. You need to
experience the satisfaction of exercising skills you have mastered,
interspersed with the new ones you’re working hard to improve. It can’t be
all learning curve. You need the downhills to coast and recharge.
How to capitalize on these insights when it comes to acting on your
feedback and working to change? Well, whatever the task you’re engaged
in, are there ways to keep score? Are there ways to make the process more
competitive, playful, or satisfying? If you’re working on procrastination,
can you create an incentive system for daily pieces of a project
accomplished? If you’re trying to act on your husband’s request that you
stop swearing, paying into a quarter jar not only raises your own awareness
but makes it fun for your kids to “help.” Download an app that will track
your food choices and calorie count. Put on a pedometer and see if you can
beat yesterday’s step total. This type of approach just might persuade
Monday Morning guy to leave the muffin behind.
INCREASE THE COST OF NOT CHANGING
So far we’ve been talking about ways to tip the calculus in favor of change
by increasing the appeal of trying to change. Now let’s turn to the other side
of the scale: how to increase the cost of choosing not to change.
Tie Yourself to the Mast
Here’s a thought: What if the choice was “go low carb, or choose the muffin
and donate $500 to the American Nazi party”? Well, that sure changes the
siren song of the muffin, right?
But why would one of your choices ever be “eat the muffin and donate to
the American Nazi party”?
It wouldn’t, unless you designed it that way on purpose, by tying
yourself to the mast. How would that work? You give a friend $500 to hold
for you. If you don’t start your diet when you say you will, he agrees, for
real, to donate the money to the American Nazi party. It has nothing to do
with your diet, but it certainly changes the terms of the choice.
Thomas Schelling finally stopped smoking by using the threat of
donating to the American Nazi party on himself. He has helped doctors
break their own drug addictions by having them write a letter to the medical
board confessing the problem, seal it, and entrust it to a friend who will
mail it if they relapse. One more hit of cocaine isn’t just one more hit; it’s
their license, their career, and their reputation.
Recognize the J Curve
As you work to change, there’s a pattern that’s worth getting to know,
because it’s so common and has such a profound effect on our behavior and
choices. This pattern is important precisely because its tricky shape can
otherwise fool you.
When we try to take feedback that requires change or start any new and
challenging activity, a common pattern that results is what’s called the J
Curve. Imagine a graph where the vertical axis gauges well-being
(happiness, contentment, etc.), and the horizontal axis represents time. High
is happy, low is unhappy. Left is now, right is later.
In terms of happiness we start somewhere in the middle. We’re going
about things the way we always have and so we’re perhaps medium happy.
Maybe our usual approach is working reasonably well though it generates
complaints (feedback) from others, or maybe we’re not happy with the
status quo ourselves, but so far we haven’t been able to change.
Now, however, we’re going to get serious. We’re going to finally learn to
swim, get out and meet people, cut back on gossiping, leave ourselves more
time to get to the airport, provide more mentoring for our team members.
As we begin to implement our change we may find that our level of
happiness immediately drops. It’s uncomfortable. It’s awkward. We get
worse at whatever we’re doing rather than better; we feel vaguely
depressed. We begin to slide downward, and we seem only to be heading
lower. We not unreasonably take stock: I may not have been thrilled before,
but now, as I’m changing, things are taking a turn for the worse. I feel
awful. I don’t like this change.
That’s how things feel now. And we begin to wonder about the future.
How is this going to turn out, this new thing we’re doing? We’ve done
nothing but head downhill, as if pulled by gravity. Do we keep sledding
downward until we crash?
Of course not. We should stop. This effort to change was a big mistake.
We cancel the change. Sorry, Mr. Sunday Night, we tried. It just didn’t work
out.
It’s a sad story, but it makes sense . . . if, that is, our projection that we
are going to continue to go down is correct. But what if we’re at the bottom
of the curve and are about to head up the happiness slope? What if we are
on our way to surpassing our previous level of contentment and skill?
In other words, what if the curve is in the unlikely shape of a J? The truth
is, at any time you are changing your habits or approach, or working on a
new skill, you are likely to get worse before you get better. And more
important, you are likely to feel worse before you feel better. In these
moments, it’s useful to know that a common trajectory isn’t further
downward, but—eventually—back up.
This suggests that committing in advance to working at something for a
specific amount of time—a time that reaches past that most challenging first
stage—can be useful. Give it two weeks, thirty days, a fiscal year—
whatever seems like a reasonable duration to test whether this new behavior
might actually help. Whether you’re learning to sleep with a breathing
machine to help your apnea, or learning to stop running the experiments
themselves and start running the lab, you need to resist letting the dip of the
curve erode your resolve.7
Understanding the typical trajectory of the J Curve is what ultimately
helped Bernardus. His first few weeks with the online database were a
minor disaster. He lost data, and it took him longer to input information into
the computer than to take handwritten notes. But he started keeping score of
the number of customers he successfully entered, and his miss percentage
slowly started to improve. Six months later he takes notes in the database
while directly on the customer call, and he’s starting to enjoy the benefits of
having all of his customer information accessible in one place, and on his
phone, freeing him from needing to carry his laptop 24/7. Bernardus is now
enjoying the upswing of that happiness curve.
All of these ideas can help you to make good on your commitment to
implement feedback and to change. By seeing the choice in a new light, or
by actually changing the choice, you can change your behavior, and that
very often sets in motion a virtuous cycle. And motion—getting going and
keeping going—is the goal.
COACH YOUR COACH
When one of the authors was in high school (we won’t say which author),
he played defensive back on the football team. He saw limited action his
junior year, so was excited one Saturday afternoon to be called into the
game. As the defense huddled, the defensive captain barked out the
formation: “In and Out Zone!” Everyone ran off to their respective
positions.
Just prior to the snap, Doug shouted in panic to the captain: “What’s an
‘In and Out Zone?’” Doug’s internal monologue was running like this: I’m
playing varsity football in front of all these people and I have no idea what
the defensive formation is. I don’t know where to go or what I’m supposed
to do. What’s wrong with me?
The captain yelled back: “We don’t know! Just guard someone!”
After the game Doug expected the captain—or someone—to ask the
coach exactly what an “In and Out” formation involved, but no one did.
Apparently, if you didn’t understand the formation, you were just supposed
to “guard someone.” And that’s what Doug did, for the rest of the season.
At season’s end the team had a perfect record: 0-8.
Doug could have said to the coach: “Can we go over the formations
again slowly until I really understand them?” But he feared admitting what
he didn’t know, and anyway, that’s not how things worked: The coaches
coached, and the players played. Players didn’t “coach the coach” to help
the coaching staff understand what the players actually needed to learn to
get better results.
Here we’ll use the term “coach” broadly to mean anyone who gives you
feedback. That includes formal mentors, of course, but more often our
“coaches” are peers, clients, coauthors, collaborators, bandmates,
roommates, friends, or family members. We collaborate to turn out the best
product, we ask colleagues to help us get up to speed, we get advice—
solicited and unsolicited—from a financial planner or our uncle Phil. Too
often, though, we respond the way the players on that football team did: If
we don’t understand the advice, or how it’s being offered to us isn’t helping,
we don’t step back and discuss it. Our colleagues and family aren’t even
aware that the advice isn’t getting through. Or perhaps they are very aware
it’s not getting through, but they’re not seeing that how they’re handling it
is part of the problem.
That’s unfortunate, because coaching your coach—discussing the process
of what helps you and why—is one of the most powerful ways to accelerate
your learning.
WHAT COACHING YOUR COACH DOESN’T MEAN
“Coaching your coach” does not mean laying down the law about how you
wish to be talked to: “When you point out that I come in late all the time, it
makes me feel bad, so from now on let’s stick with praise.” Or: “I’d do a lot
better on this eye exam if you tested me with bigger letters.”
The goal is not to erect barriers to the delivery of challenging or
inconvenient feedback; in fact, it’s just the opposite. Your aim is to find
ways that you and your coach can collaborate so that communication is
clear and efficient and you learn what’s most important to learn as quickly
as you can. The goal is to work together to minimize the interference.
And that’s a negotiation. You’ll have preferences, and your coach will
have preferences. You’ll make requests that won’t work from the coach’s
point of view. That’s the nature of these conversations. It’s not about
making demands; it’s about figuring out together what works best.
TALK ABOUT “FEEDBACK AND YOU”
There are plenty of things about how you receive feedback that aren’t in
your awareness. It’s not as if you spend twenty-four hours a day reflecting
on your feedback strengths and weaknesses, and in any event, we all have
blind spots. But you are probably aware of some of the ways that you react
to feedback—after all, you’re thinking about bringing it up because
something about the current process isn’t working for you (including,
sometimes, that you’re getting no coaching at all). Whatever that something
is, talk about it explicitly with the person giving you feedback. Here are
slices of what that might sound like:
Subtle doesn’t work with me. Be really explicit and don’t worry about
hurting my feelings. You won’t.
I tend to get defensive at first, and then I circle back later and figure
out why the feedback is helpful. So if I seem defensive, don’t be put off.
I’ll be thinking about what you’ve said, even if it doesn’t sound like it.
I react better when you present your advice as an idea that might help,
rather than as “the obviously right answer.” In that frame, I notice
that I get hooked into arguing about whether it’s “obvious” or
“right,” rather than just considering whether it’s worth trying out.
Here’s what I’ve been working on lately, in terms of self-improvement:
___. That’s the area I need the most help with right now, and I’ve been
putting other things on the back burner, even though I know I need to
work on them, too.
I’m really sensitive to negative feedback. So don’t give it in the middle
of a presentation unless it’s urgent and immediately actionable.
Put your ideas out there, explain your thinking behind them, and be open to
your coach’s thoughts about what you’ve told them.
It’s easy, by the way, for coaches to dismiss your requests and concerns
by thinking, Well, sure, there’s an ideal way we’d all like to hear feedback,
but what really matters is the feedback itself. And that’s partly true—the
conversation is not a set of obstacles around which your coach has to
maneuver. But often our own observations about how we learn best can
make a huge difference in our ability to take in the feedback. We’re
explaining our particular defensive formation not to block givers out, but to
help them get through.
DISCUSS PREFERENCES, ROLES, AND MUTUAL EXPECTATIONS
Sometimes the person giving you feedback actually is a mentor or executive
coach, or perhaps a peer or friend who is particularly inclined to give you
advice. In these cases, it can be useful to talk more broadly about feedback
styles and preferences and the challenges of learning.
Three topics should be kept front and center. The first two are about the
receiver:
(1) Your feedback temperament and tendencies;
(2) Growth areas you are currently working on.
The third is about the coach:
(3) Their philosophy, strengths and weaknesses, and requests.
On the following page is a set of questions that can move you into helpful
territory.
It’s also useful to clarify whether the coaching is confidential, how often
you will get together, how you will measure progress, and what your
priorities and goals might be. Get aligned on where you are going and how
you will get there.
The coaches in our lives also include “accidental coaches,” like your
neighbor who is being a pain. Discussing roles and mutual expectations can
be helpful here, too. Let’s imagine that your neighbor is upset that your dog
periodically finds her way into his garden. The neighbor is “coaching” you
to put up a taller fence, stake the dog on a chain, or, ideally, find her a new
home far, far away. Your neighbor is conveying his coaching via notes left
in your mailbox.
This is not working for you. First, you’re not convinced your dog is in
his yard as often as the neighbor claims, but it’s hard to tell since you often
don’t learn about it until the following day when you pick up your mail.
Plus, you are surprised and put off by the hostile tone of the notes.
Whether this situation deteriorates or begins to right itself has little to do
with the dog and everything to do with whether you take the initiative to
coach your coach. Pick up the phone, or better yet, walk next door with the
express purposes of (1) gathering more data on what’s actually going on—
how often your dog pays a visit, what your neighbor does when he sees her,
and whether there’s been any damage or particular behavior that prompts
the concern; (2) coaching your neighbor on how he can best work with you;
and (3) setting some mutual expectations about how you’ll work together.
Grab Bag of Questions for Coach and Coachee
Who has given you feedback well? What was helpful about how they did it?
Have you ever gotten good advice that you rejected? Why?
Have you ever received good advice that you took years later?
What motivates you?
What disheartens you?
What’s your learning style? Visual, auditory, big picture, detail oriented?
What helps you hear appreciation?
What’s something you wish you were better at?
Whose feedback-receiving skills do you admire?
What did your childhood and family teach you about feedback and learning?
What did your early job experiences teach you?
What’s the role of time/stages?
What’s the role of mood and outlook?
What’s the role of religion or spirituality?
What has been the impact of major life events? Getting married? Getting laid off or fired?
Having children? Death of a parent?
What do you dislike most about coaching? About evaluation?
What helps you change?
So you might say, “When you see her in the yard, please call me right
away. When you leave a note I don’t learn about it until the following day,
and that makes it hard to assess why she was out in the first place.” You
might add, “I was hopeful that our fence was effective, but something isn’t
working. Give me a little time to explore whether she needs to be retrained,
or whether we’re going to have to come up with a better solution. I’ll give
you an update by the weekend.” Letting the neighbor know that his
concerns have gotten through, and that it will take you some time to learn
more and sort out solutions, will help prevent escalation of the conflict.
HIERARCHY AND TRUST
Hierarchy can have an impact on coaching conversations. We’ve discussed
in prior chapters the benefits of separating coaching and evaluation. That’s
hard to do when the person evaluating you is also the person who coaches
you. Sometimes that’s unavoidable; you can’t have one spouse who coaches
you and another who decides whether to stay married. But when they can
be different people, they should be. It’s best to have a coach who is well
insulated from your compensation and career decisions.
But sometimes your coach is your boss, and there is no getting around it.
In these cases you might be thinking that a “coach the coach” conversation
is off limits: “I’d never talk to my boss about these kinds of things. My boss
determines my future. I can’t suggest that I’m anything less than a
confident, fully competent person.”
Certainly, you should make thoughtful choices about what you are
comfortable discussing in a particular relationship. But talking about
feedback doesn’t require you to reveal everything (or anything) about past
failures. You don’t need to confess, “I was fired from my last two jobs
because I made lots of costly mistakes. Can you help me with that?” You
can say, “I was hired as a big-picture guy, but there are a lot of details that
matter, too. Being more detail oriented is a learning edge for me. It’s helpful
to me if you point things out in real time so I can correct quickly.”
When framing a request for feedback, talk in terms of effectiveness
rather than ambition. Don’t say: “Feedback on running meetings well is
important to me because in five years I see myself as a vice president.”
Likewise, avoid empty generalities: “Feedback on running meetings is
important to me because I think that’s a really important skill in today’s
workplace.” Your request for feedback should always be tied to doing your
current job more effectively: “Feedback on running meetings is important
to me because I want to use the team’s time as efficiently as I can, given the
upcoming merger.” This puts the purpose and payoff in current terms that
actually matter to both of you.
Here’s something else that matters to both of you: Workers who seek out
negative feedback—coaching on what they can improve—tend to receive
higher performance ratings.8 Perhaps showing an interest in learning
doesn’t highlight what you have to learn. It highlights how good you are at
learning it.
DON’T BECOME A GIMME-FEEDBACK FANATIC
Of course, like anything, this can be taken to an extreme. Young Dan caught
the “coach me” bug, and while his earnest thirst for improving was
endearing at first, his repeated requests for feedback quickly became
burdensome. “He wants to sit down to talk about his performance after
every single client meeting,” complained a coworker. “I can’t take much
more of this.”
If you try to draft everyone around you into your personal learning army,
you’re going to produce burnout—and soon find your colleagues going
AWOL. Asking others what they think of you, and how they can help you,
is not the only way to learn. Try asking them questions about themselves:
What do they think about the business problem you’re facing together?
Have they seen a similar problem in the past, and what mistakes have they
seen people make in this situation? What gave them the insight to respond
to the media the way they did this morning? People enjoy talking about
their own thoughts and experiences. By tapping into their wisdom, you can
learn as much as you might by asking for explicit coaching.
YOUR COACH CAN HELP YOU GET IN SYNC
Your coach wasn’t born a coach, and it’s unlikely that they’ve taken
coaching lessons. They’re a longshoreman or a lawyer, just like you. So
they may or may not be comfortable or skilled in the role of coach, and
even the best coaches will have individual strengths and weaknesses.
You might ask your coach what—if anything—they are finding
challenging about the work you’re doing together. Your coach might say:
I can’t always tell what you’re thinking when I give you suggestions.
I’m not sure if you’re agreeing or disagreeing, and whether you feel
like you’re allowed to say so if you disagree.
The firm wants women to have access to a female mentor, and I’m
delighted to be yours. I grew up with three brothers and I have four
sons, so this feels like a learning experience for me, too.
For me, appreciation feels like blowing smoke. I don’t like getting it
and I’ve heard I’m not particularly good at giving it. But I want to be
a good coach, so let’s figure this out.
WHEN THE PERSON BEING COACHED IS THE BOSS
As the years pass and you move up the ladder of success, there will be
fewer people willing to take the risk of giving you candid coaching. You
might get evaluation—market analysts, revenue figures, and the board can
be counted on to provide that. And you might get appreciation—applause
when you get up to speak, gratitude from subordinates who admire your
willingness to give them some time and attention. But genuine, candid
coaching becomes increasingly rare.
Being human, we tend to attribute this slow disappearance of coaching to
our effectiveness and overall mastery. And to be fair, that’s part of what’s
going on. You’re the CEO or COO or C-whatever because you’re good at
what you’re being asked to do, and you’ve been good at it for a long time.
But everyone has shortcomings and weaknesses, and these are more likely
to get in your way as the complexity of what you’re doing grows. You need
help to see your blind spots, which at this stage will not just bite you, but
also hurt the organization.
Even if you’re head of a global bank or playing in the finals at
Wimbledon, you can improve with coaching. We all can. A trusted adviser
can help you think through complex choices or prepare for a potential
backlash.
Some forms of coaching can, in fact, come only from your subordinates.
What do they know that no one else does? They know your impact on them.
When they are in meetings with you, they are also in meetings with your
blind spots. They see the things you do that get in the way, that undermine
your message, that create extra work for them and others. They also hear
from their subordinates what others in the organization think you don’t
understand, don’t pay enough attention to, or aren’t being clear about.
Our subordinates are such a valuable source of information that it’s
astonishing that we don’t tap their knowledge more regularly. It’s like
crawling along in a traffic jam and ignoring the fact that you have a direct
line to the traffic helicopter above—which can see the bigger picture that
you can’t from where you sit. They could give you the lowdown on the hot
spots, pileups, and shortcuts that would get you the farthest fastest.
It’s tough to get information to flow up an organization, and you might
have to do a little hydraulic engineering to get it going. Why? Remember
that most feedback givers are anxious about raising their concerns,
especially upward. They worry that they will jeopardize their relationship
with you—that you will disagree, be annoyed, become defensive, or
retaliate. They also don’t want to hurt your feelings, embarrass you, or
embarrass themselves by handling the exchange badly.
When we show ourselves to be interested in and receptive to suggestions,
it can be enormously refreshing. The boss is self-confident enough to ask
for, and really listen to, feedback. Now, here’s someone I can work with.
You might consider establishing “reverse mentor” relationships, in which
you take on one or several coaches from different levels of the organization
so that you can see the world, and yourself, through their eyes. What does
this organization look like from the factory floor? What does it look like to
the younger generation of workers and customers? What are people worried
about in the Caracas or Calgary or Kuala Lumpur branches, and what do
their customers think of the new global marketing push? You don’t want to
be buffeted by everyone else’s priorities. You do want to learn how your
priorities are and aren’t flowing to the extremities of the organization, and
what unintended effects they are having—so that you can continually work
together to adapt and correct course.
• • •
A final thought on coaching your coach. This may sound immodest coming
from the authors, but it can be useful for you and a colleague or family to
read Thanks for the Feedback together. Not literally at the same time,
reading aloud to each other over cups of cocoa. But you can choose a
particular chapter and then discuss it over lunch or dinner. You don’t need
an agenda, and the conversation doesn’t have to be about anything specific.
Just talk about your thoughts and reactions to what you’ve read. Use the
ideas here as a catalyst for conversation. Pick out a few ideas that make
sense and a few that don’t, and put them up for discussion. Go to our
website, www.stoneandheen.com, and download our Team Leader's
Facilitation Guide, which provides a wealth of questions to stimulate rich
discussion with your team. The guide also offers coaching on how to
facilitate such discussions.
If you’re interested, send an e-mail to the authors. We’ll do our best to
respond. Let us know what’s useful and what’s not. And include a short,
clear description of what an “In and Out Zone” defense looks like, if you’re
able.
INVITE THEM IN
Here’s something we haven’t said: letting someone far enough into your life
to help you transforms the relationship. Not just because you learn, but
because the interaction itself creates connection and shifts both of your
roles inside the relationship. You become someone humble, vulnerable, and
confident enough to ask for help; they become someone who has the
capacity to help and who is respected and appreciated enough to be asked.
In chapter 10 we looked at why being good at setting boundaries is so
crucial. You have to know when and how to keep people out of that
emotional acre of yours. But just as surely, you have to know how to let
them in—whether it’s a well-kept garden or an old junkyard. For many of
us, that’s the real challenge.
Let’s be honest: Everyone’s acre is a mix of garden and junkyard. Your
garden might be messy or manicured, the presentable bits a small plot or
sprawling park. But we all have a few things in the back shed, and we could
all use some help in figuring out what to do with that rusting heap of fears
and those old cartons of shame we trip over regularly. Letting someone in
there, just past the garden, is what takes courage. That’s where intimacy
grows.
How we handle feedback in a relationship has an enormous impact on
that relationship. And changing how we handle feedback can often
transform that relationship. Let’s look at four common variations, where
feedback was out of whack and how letting someone in made a difference.
A GOOD LISTENER ASKS FOR HELP
It wasn’t until a few years ago that Roseanne noticed that her relationships
were lopsided: “People come to me for help. I’m a great listener and good
at helping them. And I enjoy it. But I started to see that all my
conversations were about other people’s problems. I knew what was going
on with everyone else, but not even my closest friends knew what was
going on with me.”
At first she assumed that her friends and colleagues were just self-
absorbed. “But now,” Roseanne says, “I realize that I’m a ‘slow reveal.’ I
don’t easily volunteer information about myself and I never ask for help. I
was sending signals I wasn’t aware of—waving people off, telling them to
stay away.” Roseanne had secured the perimeter with her silence.
Roseanne sat with this realization for months. “I knew that this wasn’t
how I wanted things to be, and I was determined to change. I decided to
work on a very specific skill: I was going to learn how to ask for help. And
for a long time, deciding was as far as I got. It was actually slightly funny.
I’m a person with a million problems, but somehow none of them seemed
like quite the right one to get help with. And anyway, how would I know
who to ask, or what it was I wanted from them? I was so unaccustomed to
getting help that I didn’t know where to start.”
Roseanne finally came up with a strategy. She decided to ask a friend for
help with something she was genuinely lousy at, but which ultimately
wasn’t that important to her: rethinking her wardrobe. “And holy cow, be
careful what you ask for! I hit an artery. It was as if Stacy had been
suppressing her opinions about my appearance for years. ‘No polka dots
after thirty!’ was the first thing she said. And then, ‘Let’s talk about your
hair.’ Apparently, one way to get feedback is to ask.”
Over time, with that friend and others, and even with colleagues at work,
Roseanne started letting people into the less lovely parts of her acre. She
shared some of the scars that lingered from a rough childhood, and her
challenges with committed relationships. Some of the feedback itself has
been more useful than she anticipated. But more important, she is making
deeper connections.
In letting herself be helped she is letting herself be known.
A FRUSTRATED ADVISER OPENS UP
Clay, meanwhile, was having the opposite experience from Roseanne: “A
coworker of mine, Nadine, has a thirteen-year-old son. Bryan is wonderful
in so many ways—a smart, funny, insightful kid. But he has never been
easy. Tantrums like thunderstorms, and recently he’s been turning his anger
on his parents. Nadine and her husband are at a loss for how to cope, but
she doesn’t want any kind of advice. She vents about it and then shuts
down.”
Does Clay have advice? He does. But for as long as he’s known Nadine,
he’s held his tongue: “I don’t have kids and because of that I’ve found that
people aren’t very receptive to my suggestions on that subject. But before I
was a geologist, I worked for several summers at a camp for troubled kids. I
have this sense for what sets kids off and what helps calm them down.
Maybe because I was that kid myself.”
Does Clay’s coworker know this about him? “She does, vaguely,” he
says. “And I’ve even brought it up by saying things like, ‘Oh, yeah, I had a
kid in my cabin who did that,’ but Nadine cruises by it, never following
up.”
If we were coaching Clay as an advice giver, there’s a lot we could offer
him. He could be explicit about what he does and doesn’t know. He could
say: “I do have some ideas for what might help from my work with kids
like Bryan. At the same time, I’m not a parent, and so I don’t have that
perspective.” He could be extra appreciative of the tough work involved in
parenting Bryan and explicit about autonomy—that Nadine is free to take or
leave his ideas: “You’ve worked so hard and maybe you’ve tried these
things. At the end of the day, you know him best. . . .”
But this is a book about feedback receiving. And it turns out that
receiving feedback was just the thing to unlock the Nadine puzzle. Clay did
something he never thought to do before. He asked Nadine for advice. “I
was at dinner at her home,” he says, “and we got on the topic of my
personal life. And for the first time, I described my battles with depression.
It turns out that Nadine knows quite a bit about antidepressant drugs, and so
I was finding the conversation very helpful. And then out of nowhere, in
this conversation about me, she started talking about Bryan. She described a
recent episode, and then listened intently as I shared my theory about what
might be going on with him. It was literally the first time we’ve ever
discussed it, and she was like a sponge.”
There’s a coda to this story, as Clay explains: “We’ve talked about it
since, this question of being open to advice. And this blew my mind. She
had suspected I’d struggled with depression in my life, and felt like she
knew things that would help me, but always thought I was uncomfortable
talking about it. So she was having the same experience I was of feeling
uninvited to offer help. Wrap your mind around that.” Indeed.
PERFECT FEEDBACK FOR THE PERFECT PERSON
Fiona founded and runs a community health center in Kenya. For ten years
she’s been working around the clock to build partnerships, expand services,
and train new staff. She is liked and respected in the region; people come
from across Africa to learn about her community outreach model.
Recently Fiona has started to feel restless, and as new opportunities arise,
she finds herself with a surprising problem: Despite working hard to train
her staff, she has not groomed anyone who could take over the organization
if she departed.
Once she became aware of this hole in her planning, she set about in her
usual competent way to tackle it. She made lists of skills that that person
would need and started to devise strategies for how current staff might
acquire them. She also began investigating where she might find new
employees who might already be qualified for the role.
And then a friend from another health center asked Fiona: “What are you
doing that is disabling your staff from learning?” The implication was clear:
After ten years, you should already have at least a couple of people with the
know-how to run the center. Fiona was offended: “Disable my staff? Are
you kidding?” She pointed to all the training and mentoring she had done.
But the question stuck with her, needling and nudging. So one day she
went to a junior staffer she knew was capable and observant and asked not
whether she was hindering others, but how: “What do you see me doing
that disables the staff?”
It turned out that Fiona—like many entrepreneurs—had her fingerprints
on everything. In the early days this ensured quality control and consistent
messaging. As the organization grew, however, her need to oversee, to
direct, to manage, meant that no one could decide anything without her say-
so. Staffers couldn’t make their own mistakes and never learned to take
initiative or trust their own judgment.
The feedback required some tough self-examination on Fiona’s part, as
well as a number of additional conversations inside the organization. There
were three results: Fiona learned to step back and trust her staff with more
responsibilities. Her relationships with her staff members were strengthened
enough to make that easier to do. And finally, Fiona demonstrated that no
one is perfect, not even Fiona. And that allowed everyone to loosen up, step
up, and learn from mistakes more easily.
SHIFTING MIRRORS
Amy was just scolded by her boss. In front of others, on a conference call.
Again.
She hangs up and immediately dials Hank, her best friend since the time
they worked together as night managers at a chain of grocery stores. Amy is
now the manager of a rival supermarket across town, and Hank has
remained a trusted sounding board. He has heard plenty over the last few
months about Amy’s new regional boss and chief antagonist, Ivan.
The latest is this: Ivan had scheduled an early call for the store managers
in the region to discuss a change in shipping providers. Amy was a few
minutes late dialing in, and when she clicked into the call, she caught Ivan
mid-sentence saying, “. . . Amy, late as usual.”
“He just has it in for me,” Amy tells Hank. “It’s so unprofessional. There
were eighteen people on that call who got to hear his little put-down.”
Later on the call they clashed again when Ivan explained that the new
shipper would require authorized personnel to sign for produce. Amy
pointed out that their other produce suppliers already required signatures.
“Not true,” Ivan corrected. “Not until now, but we’ll need signatures from
now on. Everyone should arrange to sign for their produce deliveries.”
Amy continues with Hank: “So I told Ivan that I would forward the list
of signers I already use. I just wanted to let him know that, obviously, we
already had a list. And then, as if I couldn’t hear, he said, ‘I guess Amy
really wants to be right.’ It’s as if Ivan can’t stop himself. He’s the most
defensive person I’ve ever met, but doesn’t think twice about offending
anyone else.” Hank listens thoughtfully, and says “yeah” and “wow” every
once in a while.
When he hangs up, Hank wonders if he could have done more to help
Amy hear the feedback.
We Triangulate for Comfort, but Not Coaching
Amy is doing what we all do when upset by criticism—she’s reaching out
for support. Venting is natural and cathartic; turning the sting of the moment
into the latest “get this” story for friends and coworkers helps us connect
with others and regain our balance.
But too often we stop there. We ask our friends to be supportive mirrors
so that we can get recentered and feel better. But we miss the opportunity to
also ask them to help us sift the feedback itself for anything we might learn.
Of course, from Amy’s point of view, Ivan’s actions didn’t constitute
feedback; he was simply being a jerk. But extracting feedback from
jerkiness is just the kind of thing friends can help you do.
Hank Has a Hunch
Later that afternoon Amy calls Hank back. She thanks him for being
supportive earlier, and then makes a request: “I can usually see where
people are coming from, but with Ivan, there’s something going on that I
don’t get. I don’t know if I push his buttons or if he’s just this way with
everyone. I need you to help me with that.” She’d like Hank to shift from
supportive mirror to honest mirror.
Amy’s instinct is sound: In the conflict between Amy and Ivan, Hank
actually does see both sides. He gets why Amy was triggered by Ivan’s
comments. But he’s had his own experiences with Amy’s wanting to be
right, and Hank wonders if this is a blind spot for her. Just because Ivan is
difficult doesn’t mean Amy is not.
Hank observes that this isn’t the first time that she and Ivan have clashed
over “who is right.” He sees a pattern: It’s not just that Ivan is triggering
Amy—Amy is also triggering Ivan. “That’s true,” Amy admits. “But I’m
not just going to act as if he’s right when he’s not, especially if he’s making
comments about me being wrong in front of other people.”
She pauses and then adds this: “You know, there was one other thing
going on that I didn’t mention.” When Amy overheard Ivan’s comment
about her being “late as usual” she remained civil on the phone. But she
couldn’t resist sending him a text while the conference call rattled on about
trucking and signatures:
Amy: Late? 2 minutes.
Ivan: 5.
Amy: Was dealing with shoppers complaint.
Ivan: Don’t care. Don’t be late.
Amy: 2 minutes. Maybe 3.
Returning to the call, Ivan and Amy pick up their repartee, this time about
signatures and past produce practice, and again, Amy can’t seem to sense
when the argument has passed its expiration date.
Hank suggests that maybe there’s something to this idea that Amy likes
to have the last word, and that this is contributing to the Amy-Ivan
conflicts. (Of course, that very instinct shows up in her conversation with
Hank: “But just so you know, I really was only two minutes late,” she adds
before they hang up.)
Make Two Lists to Stay on Track
In his effort to be an honest mirror, Hank suggests that they make two lists
—what’s wrong with the feedback, and what might be right or helpful
(which is a version of the containment chart we include in chapter 8). Each
time Amy strays back to defending or pointing out the problems with Ivan’s
approach, Hank tells her to write it down in the “what’s wrong” column. He
then guides her back to what might be right.
Here’s a sample of the notes Amy took on her napkin:
Writing down and discussing what’s wrong frees Amy to see what might
be right or valid or reasonable. The two sides of the list don’t net each other
out, and the point isn’t for Amy to reach some grand conclusion about her
interactions with Ivan, or a verdict on who was more right or more to
blame. Amy is digging to learn—about herself and about her relationship
with Ivan. That way, when she approaches Ivan with her thoughts, she’ll
have a more balanced view of what’s going on, and a better sense of what
might help improve the situation.
• • •
Feedback isn’t just about the quality of the advice or the accuracy of the
assessments. It’s about the quality of the relationship, your willingness to
show that you don’t have it all figured out, and to bring your whole self—
flaws, uncertainties, and all—into the relationship.
13
PULL TOGETHER
Feedback in Organizations
The supply chain manager for a sheet metal company, Everett likes data.
So he was surprised when he received a load of data in his 360 report
that he did not like. The information was confounding, wildly out of line
with how he saw himself. He felt defensive—for himself and in the name of
good data everywhere. The whole feedback endeavor, he told anyone who
would listen, had been poorly executed and pointless.
And then one day—wham!—it hit him. “The feedback fell into place,”
he says. “I suddenly saw myself in a new way, and it explained so many
things. Oh, this is why I’ve been struggling; this is where I’ve been wrong;
this is what has been disrupting my marriage; this is where I can change.”
Everett now supports 360s with the zeal of the converted: “It’s the only way
to get successful but stubborn son of a guns like me to look at themselves.”
But many of his colleagues disagree. Some found their 360 useful, but
not overwhelmingly enlightening. Some found it unhelpful, and a few felt it
was destructive. Everett finds this attitude regrettable: “No performance
management system is perfect, but ours is really quite good. Too many of
our top people are complacent. Or maybe they’re just afraid to do the hard
work of growing.”
Pierre is also wrestling with his company’s performance management
system. The president of a retail clothing chain, Pierre took stock of the toll
the system was taking on his employees: It absorbed an excessive amount
of time and left people feeling demoralized and unfairly treated. “Most of
the people who work here are amazing,” he observes. “But the system we
had in place was just not working. Everyone found it stressful. And
performance issues that needed to be addressed still didn’t get addressed.
We’ve been searching for a better way but haven’t found it yet.” Pierre
eventually canceled performance reviews altogether. Threw out the whole
thing.
Pierre thinks the people are good but the system is broken; Everett thinks
the system is good but the people are broken.
THERE ARE NO PERFECT FEEDBACK SYSTEMS
As far as “broken people” are concerned, the first twelve chapters of this
book explore just how hard it is for any of us to be perfect learners. Simply
being human provides a lifetime’s worth of challenges when it comes to
seeing ourselves clearly, managing our emotional reactions, and changing
long-standing habits. Can people learn and change? Sure. Is it difficult for
each and every one of us to do so? You bet.
Just as there are no perfect learning people, there are no perfect
organizational feedback systems. There are better and worse systems that
are more and less well matched to the needs of any given organization. But
anyone choosing and implementing a particular system must grapple with
the inevitable tensions and tradeoffs associated with it.
For example, any system that is applied to an organization larger than a
few people is going to run into the problem of differences in temperament.
The system will be well suited to some, adequately suited to others, and
poorly suited to at least a few. And, inevitably, it will be implemented by
some managers who are relatively good at feedback and some who aren’t.
So we will never have ideal execution or full buy-in, and the buy-in
challenge can form a reinforcing downward cycle. That guy’s not putting
any time into this, so why should I?
Feedback givers in any system too often see big cost and little benefit.
Lucinda, who works in pharmaceutical research, is clear about this: “It
takes time away from my primary tasks, and there’s no reward or
acknowledgment for doing it well.”
And she’s unsure how to assess her subordinates. She knows that they
are not all top performers, but is worried about the costs to morale of
negative evaluations: “If I score my people on the rigorous scale we’ve
been given, many of them are going to be disheartened. In a tight labor
market, I can’t afford to lose any of the talent I’ve got, or to erode the
performance we’ve achieved. So while forcing me to differentiate this
starkly might make things fair across the organization, for me and my team,
there’s only downside. And from what I hear, other managers aren’t paying
any attention to the scale anyway. If I did use it, it would be like penalizing
people just for being on my team.”
Jim feels caught by the performance system at the park service, for a
different reason. He’s a team leader for search and rescue, where
performance is critical to survival. “I’ve put in the time to recruit and select
the best people,” he explains. “If I’ve got the wrong person out there in a
blizzard, it’s dangerous for everyone. I’ve only got A players, because
unlike some of my fellow managers, I’ve already done the work of having
the hard conversations and making the tough calls. A ‘forced curve’
punishes me for managing well.”
CAN’T LIVE WITH IT, CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT IT
From where Jim and Lucinda stand, their feedback systems look pretty
flawed: It’s risky for any individual manager to give fully honest reviews. If
handled poorly by either giver or receiver, such conversations can damage
trust, working relationships, motivation, and team cohesion.
But then again, it’s risky not to. Problems fester, the manager and the
system lose credibility, the team underperforms, and high performers resent
that low performers aren’t pulling their weight yet face no consequences.
Managers feel stuck, and avoidance is ubiquitous. Recall that 63 percent
of executives surveyed say their biggest challenge to effective performance
management is that their managers lack courage to have the difficult
performance discussions.1 They give artificially high reviews to even
mediocre employees, which dilutes the usefulness of reviews for addressing
performance or guiding decision making. In one organization 96 percent of
employees received the highest rating.2 And researcher Brené Brown
observes that a lack of meaningful feedback was the number-one reason
cited by talented people for leaving an organization.3
It’s easy to complain about the system and the people who populate it.
What’s hard is to figure out what would help, especially because of the vast
range of goals that performance systems are charged with accomplishing:
Providing consistent evaluation across roles, functions, and
regions;
Ensuring fair compensation and distribution of rewards;
Incenting positive behaviors and disciplining negative
behaviors;
Communicating clear expectations;
Increasing accountability;
Aligning individuals with organizational goals and vision;
Coaching and developing individual and team performance;
Helping to get and retain the right people in the right roles;
Assisting succession planning in key leadership positions;
Promoting job satisfaction and high morale; and
Getting it done on time—in the moment, quarterly, annually.
Accomplishing all of these goals can’t be done with a single system or even
with a combination of systems.
The trend has been to centralize and standardize systems, collecting data
on metrics across employees, functions, regions, and markets. This can be
helpful, but you can’t “metric” your way around the fact that feedback is a
relationship-based, judgment-laced process. As Dick Grote observes in
“The Myth of Performance Metrics,” you can’t evaluate the performance of
a language translator simply by counting the number of pages he translates.4
You have to make judgments about the quality of the translation—its
success in capturing nuance, meaning, and tone. In addition, as we’ve
explored here, the feedback lives (or dies) amid the trust, credibility,
relationship, and communications skills between giver and receiver.
So there are no easy answers. But we assert this: Systems will always be
imperfect. We should work to improve them, but that can only take us so
far. The greatest leverage is helping the people inside the system
communicate more effectively, and as between giver and receiver, it’s the
receivers skills that have the most impact. We need to equip receivers to
create pull—to drive their own learning, to seek honest mirrors as well as
supportive mirrors, to speak up when they need additional appreciation or
coaching or are confused about where they stand. As each receiver becomes
more skilled at receiving—at creating pull—the organization gets better at
it, too. We pull together.
• • •
Below, we consider this challenge—of imperfect people within imperfect
systems—and offer ideas for improvement from three different
organizational perspectives: leadership and HR, team leaders and coaches,
and receivers.
WHAT LEADERSHIP AND HR CAN DO
We’ll start with leadership and HR, since they’re the ones we expect to “do
something” about the problem of performance management. They’re not
the only players, but they’re the most visible and the most likely to have
their hands in the design. Here are three things they can do that help.
1. DON’T JUST TRUMPET BENEFITS, EXPLAIN TRADEOFFS
The task of implementing and championing a performance management
system usually falls to Human Resources.5
Because these systems are so often and so easily criticized, HR leaders
struggle to supply the positive side of the argument: “What’s even better
than Focused Friday and Work Hard Wednesday? The new performance
system!” But that advocacy has unintended consequences in that it causes
the roles in the debate to harden: HR and senior management are the
cheerleaders. Everyone else is a sneerleader. And as HR sends out more
positive messages, the complainers feel obligated to send out more negative
ones.
Of course, HR and senior leadership are acutely aware of the real
challenges. One survey found that, privately, within senior HR forums, only
3 percent of HR leaders give their own performance management system an
A; 58 percent give their system a C, D, or F.6 They know the challenges
better than anyone else, but it’s just not their role to talk about those
challenges publicly.
Our advice is this: Don’t just promote benefits. Also discuss and explain
tradeoffs. Here’s an illustration of why that matters from a client we met a
few years back. Jane, the new head of HR, was hired to fix the
organization’s performance management system. Jane’s predecessor had
tried to implement a new system, but after a year of work, the executive
committee voted it down and the predecessor left the organization.
Then Jane came on board and examined what her predecessor had
sketched out. Jane decided that her top priority would be not just adopting a
new performance evaluation system, but adopting the exact system that had
been proposed by her predecessor and rejected by the exco. Jane’s assistant
asked why she was going to the trouble: If you’re trying to get fired, why
not just post scandalous pictures of yourself on Facebook? It’s easier and
much more fun.
But Jane had a plan. She called a meeting of the executive committee and
began her presentation by stating that she wanted the group to take a second
look at the system that had been voted down the previous year. No one was
pleased by this suggestion, but when Jane added, “I want to make a list of
all of its drawbacks,” there was at least the possibility of some amusement.
The exco commenced their critique, and the list grew, with Jane adding a
few drawbacks of her own. When the list was complete, she read each item
out loud and concluded with this: “Wow.” After a pause Jane added: “These
are serious drawbacks. No wonder you voted this system down.” This was
met with some grumbling: Did she not realize that the plan had flaws until
just now? This is the person we hired to fix the problem?
Then Jane said: “Now let’s make a list of the benefits of the plan.” The
process started slowly but soon gained momentum. Again, she finished by
reading each item out loud; several items pointed to the benefits of the
proposed new system compared with the current one or with other systems
the exco was aware of. When she finished she paused and said: “Serious
drawbacks and important benefits.” And added: “We’ve looked at many
other performance management systems. Every system has its drawbacks.
The plan we’re looking at now has the fewest drawbacks, and also the most
important benefits, given our goals and what we’re up against. We should
adopt it because it’s by far the best fit for us. The minute something better
comes along, you can be sure I’ll grab it.”
The plan passed unanimously. The conversation took about forty-five
minutes. When asked what had caused the executive committee to reverse
its decision from the previous year, one member remarked, “Last year we
were presented only with the benefits of the plan. This year we discussed
the drawbacks.”
Funny reasoning, maybe, yet it’s exactly right. When we are asked to
make a choice about a subject we’re worried about, and we are presented
only with the benefits, we supply the potential drawbacks on our own—
some real and some imagined. And then we construct an imaginary way
out: Why accept a plan with so many drawbacks when we could accept a
plan with no drawbacks? Let’s use that one.
Jane found a way to bring the internal voices of the committee members
—their fears and concerns—into the room, so they could be weighed and
assessed. When you do this, it could be that the drawbacks do outweigh the
benefits, but at least people can now evaluate the real choices involved. We
aren’t choosing between this and some fantasy plan yet to be discovered;
we’re choosing between this plan and other comparable plans that have
both benefits and drawbacks.
In general, when selecting or implementing an organizational system, HR
and senior leaders should provide the following to employees at all levels of
the organization:
Clarification of the various goals of the system;
An explanation of why this system was chosen over other
systems;
Transparency about potential costs as well as benefits;
A description of the costs of half-hearted participation; and
An invitation for ongoing discussion, suggestions, and
feedback.
When handling complaints or concerns about the system, make sure to
listen and acknowledge. Ask for specific suggestions that might improve
the system. If you decide to reject an idea that’s been proposed, it’s crucial
to explain why: “We discussed it at length. It fixes this problem over here,
but creates this other problem over there. On balance, we decided not to
implement it.” If you don’t explain why, people assume you didn’t fully
understand the benefits of their suggestions, were just going through the
motions of asking for input, or don’t care about their concerns or well-
being.
HR can streamline the process, but in the end, the dilemmas and time
crunch created by having to give and receive feedback are a shared
problem, not an HR problem. Sharing the problem can generate new ideas,
but it also shifts the roles from the standard oppressor-victim dynamic to
that of mutual problem solvers.
Ismail, fed up with the state of feedback in his firm, decided to “share the
dilemma.” He called an all-hands meeting and laid it on the line: “I hear
people complaining they don’t get enough feedback. I hear people
complaining they don’t like the feedback they do get. Employees blame
managers, and managers blame employees. Everybody blames HR. We’ve
put in the best systems we know on evaluation and mentoring, but let’s
admit the truth: They’re not perfect, and they never will be. No system can
make you learn, but no system can keep you from learning either. So the
best way forward is for each of us to ask ourselves: What kind of learner do
I want to be, and what kind of mentor do I want to be? We’re in it together:
If you support me in my learning, I’ll support you in yours.”
Ismail’s honesty helped people to see that this was not an administrative
problem, but a human problem. He got people involved and talking—not
just about the challenges but about taking responsibility for their own
learning and for creating possible solutions.
Obviously you can’t have everyone who works in an organization
involved in designing and implementing feedback systems. But you can
invite participation, both formal and informal. It’s often useful to invite
those who are the loudest voices against performance systems to be part of
the process of designing them, both to take advantage of their perspective
and ideas, and to enroll them in the challenge of doing something
constructive about their complaints.
2. SEPARATE APPRECIATION, COACHING, AND EVALUATION
A single performance management system can’t effectively communicate
all three kinds of feedback. Each requires different qualities and different
settings to be effective.
Evaluation needs to be fair, consistent, clear, and predictable—across
individuals, teams, and divisions. We need to understand who is evaluating
whom and what the criteria for success and advancement are. We’ll need to
have thoughtful two-way conversations throughout the year about goals and
progress, in time to address problems along the way. The evaluation system
needs to be rigid enough to ensure fairness and consistency, yet flexible
enough to take account of individual differences in role and circumstance.
None of this is new and none of this is easy.
Good coaching requires different parameters to work well. Those who
are improving need frequent, close-to-real-time suggestions, and the chance
to practice small corrections or improvements along the way. The “one big
coaching meeting each year with twenty suggestions” or even “two
coaching meetings each year with ten suggestions each” isn’t likely to help,
because at its core, coaching is a relationship, not a meeting. Coach and
coachee need ongoing discussion of what the coachee can work on in light
of organizational needs and individual competencies. They need people
who can be honest mirrors to help them see themselves when they’re not at
their best, and supportive mirrors to reassure them that they can get better.
As we’ve discussed, there are at least two problems in mixing coaching
with evaluation. First, on the receiving end, my attention will be drawn to
the evaluation, which drowns out the coaching. If I think I have lost the
bonus I already promised my family, I’m not going to hear your suggestions
for how I can tweak my PowerPoint slides. The second concern is that, if I
am going to be open to coaching, I need to feel safe.7 I need to know that
admitting mistakes or areas of weakness isn’t going to count against me in
my job security or career advancement. I need absolute trust that being open
in coaching conversations will not adversely affect my evaluation.
Finally, as we’ve said, too many workplaces suffer from mutual
appreciation deficit disorder. Even the most satisfied among us can
sometimes feel underappreciated for how much we put into our jobs and for
how much crap we put up with along the way. Formal recognition programs
are helpful, but we care more about appreciation from our immediate
coworkers and supervisors than we do about ceremonial recognition from
seven levels above. Rote thank-yous lose currency fast, but an authentic
“Hey, watching you handle that complicated task so well is making me
rethink my approach to those problems” can mean more than any plaque or
gift certificate.
And everyone hears appreciation in different ways.8 Some hear it in their
paycheck, and are baffled why others need more than that to feel valued.
Others hear it in a private word of affirmation or handwritten note of
thanks, in the patience a mentor shows as she goes over the skill yet again,
or in the juicy assignment sent their way. The point here is not that you
have to have an “appreciation system” in place; rather, it’s about having a
cultural norm of appreciation that encourages everyone to notice (1) the
genuine and unique positives in the work of others, and (2) how each team
member hears appreciation and encouragement so that it can be best
expressed to that person as an individual.
The responsibility to get the balance right on all three kinds of feedback
ultimately lies with both givers and receivers. Sara, a first-year consultant,
found that she was getting plenty of hard-hitting coaching, but had no sense
of where she stood. That vacuum meant she struggled not to hear the
coaching as evaluation. “I couldn’t tell if I was on track, which made all this
mid-project coaching from partners feel like stepping in front of a firing
squad every time. Finally, I decided to ask. I said to the partner, ‘Before you
give me your coaching, can you tell me how you think I’m doing? Am I on
track based on where I should be at this stage?’ He was surprised: ‘Sara,
you’re doing great! You’ve definitely got a future here—do you not realize
that?’ I didn’t, but the minute he said it, I could relax and focus on his
coaching. And now that I could hear his coaching as coaching, it was really
quite helpful.”
3. PROMOTE A CULTURE OF LEARNERS
In every organization explicit and implicit messages evolve about what is
(actually) valued and what is (actually) rewarded. If you want “learning” to
be valued, it has to be embedded in what is talked about with admiration,
what is highlighted as important in the war stories that are told, what
matters when it comes to visible projects and key promotions.
Here are five ideas that help promote a culture of learning.
Highlight Learning Stories
The most visible picture of competence in many organizations is the
superstar with God-given talent who delivers consistent results and, with a
bit of luck and the right relationships, rises quickly through the ranks. But
the reality is often different from the myth. In fact, what many of these
superstars are actually doing well is learning.
God-given talent is the way her peers tell the story of Sijia. She’s
attractive, bright, and likable, gets put on the best projects, and is soon
included in more senior meetings. Among her colleagues her swift rise is
seen as the result of her natural gifts and her skill at playing the political
game.
But her colleagues are missing a key part of the story. What they don’t
see is that Sijia is a proactive and determined learner. She pays attention to
what she doesn’t comprehend and asks questions. She asks if she can sit in
on meetings that will help her understand the customer better, and as a
consequence, she gets to observe firsthand how people above her play their
roles. Sijia’s openness to coaching is evident. She doesn’t present herself as
perfect; in fact, she’s quick to acknowledge her mistakes and what she’s
learned from them. No one thinks Sijia has all the answers, but her senior
colleagues increasingly see her as a trusted partner in tackling the toughest
challenges.
Unfortunately her organization isn’t fully capitalizing on Sijia’s skill at
learning. As she moves up, there is no encouragement for her to share her
learning approach, and no one in management has done it either. So her
peers and younger colleagues attribute her success to luck and
brownnosing, failing to observe (or emulate) her single greatest asset.
Part of what defines an organizational culture are the stories and myths
about it—the courage or genius or endurance displayed in the face of
impossible challenges. These stories tell us what kind of place we work at
and what is expected of us. “Mistake stories” that ultimately result in “what
we learned” stories are abundant—probably every successful employee and
team has some—but they are too rarely shared.
Cultivate Growth Identities
If you want to nudge people out of a fixed identity and into a growth
identity, two things help. First, teach them about it. A “growth identity” is
not a concept most people are aware of until they hear about it. Hold a
session on the difference between fixed and growth identities; let people
discuss the topic, ask questions, express doubt. Talk about the differences in
how people metabolize positive and negative feedback, and the implications
for how to coach one another on teams. Float the concept of honest and
supportive mirrors, and get the grapevine to actually grow something
beyond rumors—peers helping one another to see their blind spots and
process feedback for what’s right, not just venting about what’s wrong. Get
the ideas into the air and onto people’s radar.
Second, make the challenge of “pull”—the work required to recognize
our triggers and find a way to learn—discussable during feedback
conversations. People get better as they practice, and they can practice more
productively when both people in the conversation are aware of feedback
challenges. Discussing reactions to feedback, confusion, defensiveness,
blind spots, and interpretations regarding where the feedback is coming
from and going—these should all be part of everyday conversations on how
to do things well.
It’s important, though, that “growth identity” not be used by feedback
givers as a way to shortcut a conversation: “You’re not taking my feedback
because you don’t have a growth identity.” A growth identity provides a
way of hearing the feedback. It doesn't mean you always take it.
Discuss Second Scores
In chapter 9 we suggested developing a second score that looks at how you
deal with challenging feedback. You may not have been happy with your
evaluation, or the project you were on may have failed, but we’re especially
interested in how you responded to that experience. That’s what tells us
what you’re capable of as the challenges naturally get harder and the
environment you have to navigate gets more complex.
We recommend against actually “giving” people formal second scores.
(Now they are worried about your evaluation of my reaction to your first
evaluation.) But we do urge you to discuss the challenge and importance of
second scores. A feedback giver can encourage a receiver to reflect not only
on the feedback itself but on how and what he’s doing with it—to reflect on
how to maximize his second score.
Create Multitrack Feedback
In foreign affairs the concept of multitrack diplomacy describes the range of
players who are involved in creating systemic change and building peace.
Track 1 is the official government track—involved in negotiations,
summits, sanctions, and treaties. Track 2 is the unofficial but often
significant work done by others—community members and grassroots
organizations, et cetera.9
We’ve borrowed this concept to describe the two tracks that
organizations can put in place to support individual learning. They need to
have Track 1 structures that support evaluation and mentoring. Those
include performance management systems, mentoring programs, trainings,
and the like.
But in many ways Track 2 activities are even more crucial to learning.
These include the informal coaching conversations among friends, peers,
and mentors; the stories of success and failure; discussions of best practices
and skills that did or didn’t help; and even an exchange of favorite books.
You might have honest mirror and supportive mirror lunches with friends,
combining social time with helping each other to learn.
Track 2 gives a formal name to these important informal interactions,
and that helps you talk about it and bring it more consciously into the
culture of the organization.
Leverage Positive Social Norming
The least appealing part of performance management for everyone involved
is the phase called Nagging and Being Nagged. Setting goals, coaching, and
completing appraisals are responsibilities that usually sit alongside the more
pressing tasks already on everyone’s plates, and are often the first to get
postponed in the face of more immediate crises. So it falls to HR or team
leaders to nag, and to managers and employees to be nagged.
Work by Robert Cialdini suggests we may be going about the whole
process wrong. Cialdini is an expert on influence, and he argues that talking
about negative behavior often has the unintended effect of reinforcing it as
the social norm. If I’m a manager getting chiding e-mails about my late
appraisals, I have two reactions. First, I feel underappreciated for all the
hard work I’m doing that is the reason my appraisals are late. I’m not
hanging around in my (apparently spacious) cubicle playing Ping-Pong. I’m
swamped with a thousand different projects that the organization needs me
to do.
But second, based on the tone of the nagging e-mail, I gather there must
be quite a few of us who are late. I figure I’m in good company. If my bad
behavior is the social norm, I don’t feel particularly moved to take this
reminder very seriously. I’ll just get another reminder in a week or so, along
with everyone else. That seems to be how it works around here.
Interestingly, it’s when the reminders stop that I might worry I’ve missed
the expected “window” of grace.
Cialdini’s studies demonstrate that highlighting good norms does more to
change disliked behavior than calling out bad norms. Rather than issuing a
reproachful “31 percent of you still haven’t completed your reviews” it’s
more effective to crow, “69 percent of you have completed your reviews.
Thank you!” Those who have completed the task feel appreciated and
recognized for the effort. And those who haven’t get the message that they
are out of step with their peers.10
WHAT TEAM LEADERS AND FEEDBACK GIVERS CAN DO
What can one manager or team leader do to improve an organizational
culture?
An organizational culture is really a collection of subcultures, and those
subcultures can vary tremendously from manager to manager, team to team,
and department to department. You can have significant impact on your
own subculture and teammates, and over time, you can invite others to join
you. Here are three ideas that help.
1. MODEL LEARNING, REQUEST COACHING
If you had to pick between preaching the benefits of being a learner and
modeling good learning, well, there’s no contest. In many ways, the
manager is the culture: If they’re good learners, they set the tone for a
learning culture.
The first step in modeling learning, of course, is actually being a good
learner. That’s the hard part for all of us. Compared with that, the next step
is easy but often forgotten: make your endeavor to learn explicit. Encourage
people to discuss your blind spots with you. Shift from blame conversations
to joint contribution conversations, and start by asking what you might have
contributed to the problem. Hold people accountable by showing them how
you hold yourself accountable alongside them. When you conduct
performance reviews, help people look at the system and their role in it, and
appreciate them for their engagement and efforts to change. Be open about
what you continue to find challenging about receiving feedback. Ask for
coaching and help, not only from those above you, but from peers and
subordinates. All things we’ve talked about elsewhere, but we say them
again here because modeling is the most powerful thing you can do as an
individual leader to improve the culture.
2. AS GIVERS, MANAGE YOUR OWN MINDSET AND IDENTITY
Consider the situation Janice is in. Although she has terrific technical skills
and a file stuffed with glowing reviews, she’s been passed over for
promotion into management time and time again. She is confused and
increasingly resentful. Why is she being treated so unfairly? The politics
around this place are ridiculous.
Janice’s supervisor, Ricky, knows that she is not being treated unfairly;
she simply doesn’t have the requisite skills. She is not being promoted
because there are well-founded concerns—from Ricky and others—about
her ability to manage people. But fearing he would upset her, Ricky has
never given Janice this feedback directly. She can’t change what she’s not
aware of. In Ricky’s well-intended effort to avoid hurting Janice, he is
hurting her and holding back her career. And that’s treating her unfairly.
Ricky reminds us why managers dread feedback conversations as much
as employees do. Givers can struggle with identity issues of their own:
“I’m not good at giving feedback. That’s obvious when I try.”
“If they disagree or are upset with me, I must not be a good
manager.”
“They won’t like me.”
“I don’t want them to think I’m being controlling or ‘telling them how
to do their job’ (despite the fact that somebody obviously needs to).”
“I’m a nice person. I don’t want to hurt their feelings or appear
unsupportive.”
Perhaps the most common concern is the last: Hurting someone,
regardless of our intentions, conflicts with our self-image as a good and
kind person, or a supportive leader. It’s true that the receiver needs the
feedback: they are long-winded, unresponsive, exude “attitude,” or smell
bad. Yet raising these concerns makes most of us squirm. Even if it’s done
in the execution of our role, it feels horrible to hurt or upset others, and we
quite reasonably try to avoid it when we can.
Our advice is to notice that what might hurt someone in the short term
might help them in the longer term, and indeed, withholding important
coaching because it might be painful—to them and to us—can do them real
damage over time. We all need empathy and encouragement—supportive
mirrors. But we also need clear and accurate information—honest mirrors.
When we ourselves are screwing up or shooting ourselves in the foot, we
want someone to tell us. Yet we hesitate to tell others. As you think about
whether and how to give feedback, make sure to factor in the long-term
consequences for the receiver as well as your own short-term identity
discomfort.
3. BE AWARE OF HOW INDIVIDUAL DIFFERENCES COLLIDE IN ORGANIZATIONS
Part of the challenge of feedback in organizations is due to differences of
temperament and wiring; we all have different baselines, swing, and sustain
and recovery. For simplicity, let’s assume that in any given population,
about half the staff tend to be optimistic, quick-recovery Krista types from
chapter 7, and half are Alita types, who swing wide in response to negative
feedback and take longer to recover.
Now, just for fun, pair them all up to give each other feedback.
Our sensitivity to feedback can affect not only how we receive feedback
but also how we give it. If a manager is highly sensitive to negative
feedback, he may not be comfortable giving negative feedback to others; he
may assume they’ll have the same painful overreactions that he does.
Which may be true. Or not. If you matched an Alita type, who hates
critical feedback, with a Krista type, who can’t hear critical feedback unless
it’s extremely explicit, nothing may get communicated. Alita’s fear of
hurting Krista results in her hinting around, which, rather than sparing
Krista’s feelings, only frustrates her. Krista is happiest with clarity. Krista’s
former manager used to address problems by saying to her: “Do not EVER
do that again.” Krista loved this. She got it. No harm, just help.
But now think about what happens when the Krista types give the Alita
types critical feedback. Krista may be oblivious to how sensitive Alita is.
Her tough, direct feedback aimed at helping Alita improve—“These three
things? Never do them again”—may devastate Alita, setting her back rather
than helping her grow. In Krista’s mind, her unvarnished approach is no big
deal—just giving a little advice. But for Alita, it’s scarring. No help, just
harm.
If Alita approaches Krista about how upsetting this is for her, their
tendencies replicate themselves in this next exchange. Alita would be
tentative and vague in describing the real extent of the devastation caused
by Krista’s harshness. Krista wouldn’t hear something this indirect, and
would brush it off with a “Buck up, kid” or “Don’t take it so personally” or
“Sorry, were you saying something?” Krista doesn’t see a problem, and is
shocked when Alita jumps ship to a competitor six months later: “But I
invested so much in her development!”
Of course, there are other variations on the theme of how disposition
affects our style of giving feedback. People who worry a lot often give an
abundance of feedback as a way to gain a sense of control over their
environment. People who have impossibly high standards for themselves
can also hold impossibly high standards for others, resulting in a steady
stream of coaching and negative evaluation, and a conspicuous silence
around appreciation. And people who have trouble with impulse control are
often “direct” in ways that are sometimes helpful and sometimes less so. All
these variations can result in individuals with the unexpected combination
of being insensitive as givers while being hypersensitive as receivers. This
is why when you are a giver, asking your receiver to coach you as their
coach is so important.
WHAT RECEIVERS CAN DO
A few final words for receivers as we work to adapt to the organization,
community, and family we live in. First, a reminder: Regardless of context
or the company you keep, you are the most important person in your own
learning. Your organization or team or boss might support or stifle
feedback. Either way, they can’t stop you from learning. You don’t have to
depend on your annual review or your boss’s willingness to mentor. You
can watch, ask questions, and solicit suggestions from coworkers,
customers, partners, and friends. You don’t have to wait around for
someone to train you to sell more shoes. Observe whoever sells the most
and try to figure out what they’re doing differently. And ask them to watch
you. Whatever they suggest, try it on. Experiment with the advice, and if
the shoe fits, wear it.
Whatever you do in your organization—whether it’s selling shoes or
saving souls—you’re surrounded by people you can learn from.
• • •
Like the tension between learning and acceptance for each of us as
individuals, the tensions at the heart of organizational feedback are a
permanent condition. The ideas in this chapter and in the rest of the book
can help us manage these tensions, and get us talking to one another.
But while learning is a shared responsibility, in the end, it comes down to
you.
Printed by permission of the Norman Rockwell Family Agency Copyright © 1965 the Norman
Rockwell Family Entities, Norman Rockwell Museum Collections.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
If you want an extra helping of criticism in your life, tell people you are
writing a book about how to receive feedback.
Typical comments to Sheila sounded like this: “Interesting. Remember
your wedding day?” Yes, twenty years ago? “Well anyway, I always thought
your dress was . . .” Comments to Doug tended in this direction: “Wait, you
are writing a book about receiving feedback? That’s a little ironic, don’t you
think?" Yes, a little, sure.
So, we’ve got people to thank—lots of them.
First, we are grateful to everyone who shared their stories and struggles
with us. The examples in this book are based on the experiences of real
people—clients, colleagues, neighbors, friends, family. Identifying details
have been changed, and in some cases we’ve created composites, but we’ve
tried to maintain the emotional truth of each story.
For many years it was our privilege to work at the Harvard Negotiation
Project with Roger Fisher. Roger is a grandfather of the field of conflict
management and was one of its most passionate practitioners. Getting to
Yes, written with William Ury and Bruce Patton, spread the word on
interest-based negotiation. Originally published in 1981, it is a masterpiece
—among the best things ever written about how human beings should deal
with differences. Roger died on August 25, 2012, at the age of ninety. As a
friend said at his memorial service, “It’s up to us now.” Indeed.
Our friend and Difficult Conversations coauthor Bruce Patton lives
Rogers legacy daily—in the intellectual rigor he brings to any analysis and
in the tireless optimism with which he approaches some of the world’s
toughest conflicts. His contributions to the theory, practice, and pedagogy
of negotiation are far reaching, and his generous colleagueship over the past
twenty years has been invaluable.
The work of Chris Argyris, Donald Schön, Diana McLain Smith, Bob
Putnam, and Phil McArthur form another pillar in our thinking. Although
we don’t use the term, the “ladder of inference” helps organize chapter 3,
and ideas on contribution and defensive routines inform our thinking
throughout. Chris, thanks for your life’s work, and for the many lifetimes’
worth of ideas you have given the world.
Huge props go out to negotiation theorist and educator John Richardson,
who teaches at MIT’s Sloan School of Management. It was John who
introduced us to the foundational differences among appreciation, coaching,
and evaluation. The original formulation of those ideas can be found in
Getting It Done, which John wrote with Roger Fisher and Alan Sharp. It’s a
hidden gem in the communication canon.
Over the past twenty years, Bob Mnookin of Harvard Law School has
gone from being our (slightly intimidating) mentor to our close colleague
and friend. Teaching with you and teammates Erica Ariel Fox, Kathy
Holub, Alain Lemperer, Linda Netsch, Frank Sander, and Alain Laurent
Verbeke has been one of the most reliably satisfying experiences in our
professional lives.
At the Program on Negotiation, we thank Susan Hackley, James Kerwin,
Jessica MacDonald, Jim Sebenius, Dan Shapiro, Stephan Sonnenberg,
Guhan Subramanian, William Ury, and the small cadre of gifted students
who have worked with us as teaching assistants over the years. A special
thanks to Michael Wheeler, of Harvard Business School, who came up with
the title for this book on his first try.
In the fields of psychology and organizational behavior, we are indebted
to the research and writing of Aaron Beck, Carol Dweck, Amy Edmondson,
Dan Gilbert, Marshall Goldsmith, John Gottman, Lee Ross, and Martin
Seligman. Deep thanks as well to Jeffrey Kerr, Rick Lee, Sallyann Roth,
and Jody Scheier for their often uncanny insights into relationship
dynamics. Their ideas are all over this book.
Informing our understanding of neuroscience and behavior is the work of
Richard Davidson, Cate Fornier, Jonathan Haidt, Steven Johnson, and
Sophie Scott. Neuroscientist Cate helped us skate along the cliffs edge of
simplification, without (we hope) ever toppling off.
Our friend psychologist Robin Weatherill has walked alongside us on the
entire journey, offering incisive comments, stories, observations, and ideas.
Thank you, Robin, for your willingness to be an honest mirror and for the
wide-ranging conversations during so many Friday-night dinners. You’ve
supported us in more ways than you know.
Many people have busy schedules, but our pal Adam Grant’s schedule is
really busy. The Hardest Working Man in Academia, Adam read a draft
while on book tour for his splendid Give and Take, passing along studies,
thoughts, and ideas we had missed.
Feedback from Scott Peppet at the University of Colorado was delivered
with such grace, precision, and wit that we wondered if he was somehow
making fun of us. Everyone should make such fun. Michael Moffitt, dean of
the School of Law at the University of Oregon, was the first person we
entrusted with a draft of the manuscript. Michael pushed us to simplify and
shorten. Well, we tried. Bob Bordone at Harvard Law School offered
incredibly useful feedback on the first half of the book, so if things
deteriorate halfway through, you know whom to blame.
Rob Ricigliano, Judy Rosenblum, and Linda Booth Sweeney are the only
three occupants of the intersecting Venn diagram sets formed by people
who (1) understand systems thinking, and (2) like us. Given the tight
quarters, it’s odd that they’ve never met. Thanks to each for their careful
reading and suggestions.
Erica Ariel Fox was too busy writing her own book, Winning from
Within, to help us with ours. Or was it we who were too busy to help her?
Anyway, no one helped anyone. And yet it was an extravagant luxury to
have such a close friend writing a book at the same time we were. Thank
you, Erica, for the love and encouragement from one who knows.
For their stories, editing, and unbounded willingness to discuss these
ideas, thanks to Jennifer Albanese, David Altschuler, Lana Proctor Banbury,
Stevenson Carlebach, Sara Clark, Nan Cochran, Ann Garrido, Micah
Garrido, Jill Grennan, Jack and Joyce Heen, Barbara and Maland
Hoffmann, Kathy Holub, Stacy Lennon, Rory Van Loo, Susan Lynch,
Celeste Mueller, Lea Ellermeier Nesbit, Andrew Richardson, Susan and
Bob Richardson, Tom Schaub, Angelique Skoulas, Anna Huckabee Tull,
Jim Tull, and Karen Vasso.
Our profound thanks to our colleagues at Triad: Sarah Seminski,
creative, industrious, and omnivorously talented; Elaine Lin, whose
intelligence and humanity so awe clients that they lose their ability not to
send her baked goods in the mail; Heather Sulejman, Triad’s heart and soul,
the one who keeps everyone sane but herself, and who appears almost
normal despite her frightening devotion to Depeche Mode. And our partner
Debbie Goldstein, the most universally loved person we know—Debbie,
through life’s ups and downs there’s no one we’d rather have beside us for
the long haul. (By the way, Taylor, we found Georgette. She was in her
office.)
Thanks also to those who shared their insights and ideas at the 2013
Triad retreat: Emily Epstein, Sharon Grady, Michele Gravelle and Sam
Brown, Peter Hiddema, Audrey Lee, Ryan Thompson, Gillien Todd, and
Rob Wilkinson; and to our colleagues and friends who have helped in so
many ways: Jeremy Ahouse, Lisle Baker, Eric Barker, Chris Benko,
Richard Birke, Robin Blass, Dawn Buckelew, Cecile Carr, Laura and Dick
Chasin and colleagues at the Public Conversations Project, Jared Curhan,
John Danas, Phil Davis, Alan Echtenkamp, Jac Fourie, Amy Fox, Mike
Garrido, Jim Golden, Eric Henry, David Hoffman, Bernardus Holtrop, Ted
Johnson, Dee Joyner, Ismail Kola, Susan McCafferty, Liz McClintock,
Jamie Moffitt, Monica Parker, Brenda Pehle, Jen Reynolds, Grace
Rubenstein, Danny and Louise Rubin, Gabriella Salvatore, Joe Scarlett and
Mary Fink, Jeff Seul, Olga Shvayetskaya, Linda Silver, Hill Snellings, Scott
Steinkerchner, Laila Sticpewich, Wojtek Sulejman, Don Thompson and
Joshua Weiss. BK Loren of the Iowa Writers Workshop, along with
classmates from the summer of 2012, provided invaluable guidance and
companionship as the project took shape; Angelique Skoulas generously
shared the quiet of her pied-à-terre in Cambridge during the homestretch;
mother-in-law Susan Richardson and husband John Richardson cheerfully
picked up the slack at home; and the staff of the Carlisle Public Library
embodied the ideal combination of “welcome back” and “we won’t bother
you” all along the way.
We have been collaborating with the folks at Duke Corporate Education
for more than a decade. They are invaluable partners in testing what is
useful to executives and organizations facing global challenges and change.
Holly Anastasio, Dennis Baltzley, Jonathan Besser, Laurie Beyl, Christina
Bortey, Jane Boswick-Caffrey, Nedra Bradsher, Cindy Campbell, Mike
Canning, Cindy Emrich, Pete Gerend, Monica Hill, Leah Houde, Robin
Easton Irving, Nancy Keeshan, Tim Last, Mary Kay Leigh, Pat Longshore,
Steve Mahaley, John Malitoris, Liz Mellon, Maureen Monroe, Carrie
Painter, Bob Reinheimer, Judy Rosenblum, Michael Serino, Blair Sheppard,
and Cheryl Stokes have become trusted friends as well as colleagues.
A big thanks to agent Esther Newberg and the team at ICM. You took us
on when we were pups, and over the years, our appreciation for your talent,
wisdom, and support has only deepened.
This is our second project with the team at Viking Penguin, and it’s been
just as gratifying this time around. Susan Petersen Kennedy and Clare
Ferraro were all in from the start, and we are deeply grateful for their
confidence in us. Cover designer Nick Misani hit a home run on his very
first swing. Nick, remember us in your acceptance speech at the industry
awards. Carla Bolte created a design that is fresh and inviting. The publicity
team—Carolyn Coleburn, Kristin Matzen, and Meredith Burks—along with
the marketing team—Nancy Sheppard, Paul Lamb, and Winnie De Moya—
shared our conviction that this was both a business book and psychology
book, and had great ideas for how to get it out to organizations and
individuals alike. Nick Bromley kept everything moving and everyone on
track.
We wrote several appreciative paragraphs about our editor, Rick Kot, but
Rick deleted them and in their place inserted this: “Rick is awesome, full
stop.” We’ll go with that and add this: Your clear-headed questions and
(endless) wise edits have made this a far better book, and the humor
embedded in your comments had us laughing out loud. Rick, we would
walk on gilded splinters for you. We’re hoping it doesn’t come to that, but if
it does, give us a call.
Doug wishes to acknowledge the incredible support of his closest
friends: Don, Syl, Kate, Annie, and Emma; Jimmy, Louisa, Susannah, and
Allyson; Wynn, Phyllis, Sophia, Alexa, and Nadia; Matt, Luann, Faulks,
Holly, Bloss, Manuela, and the Krausens, and all the guys over at the Sports
Barn and Monkey Down. For whatever reason, I won the friendship lottery
and I know just how lucky I am.
And family. Such a good-looking bunch. Rand, when we were growing
up, I thought of you as Superman, and I still do; Robbie, you have this
amazing ability to make everyone around you feel safe and happy (and I’m
sorry for trying to sell you tap water when we were little); Julie, you are the
quickest, funniest person I know, and I’m including myself in that
assessment; Dennis, Alana, and David, thanks for loving those first three
and for being such awesome in-laws. And to all of you, thanks for the
biggest gift of all, my niece and nephews—Andy, Charlie, Caroline, Colin,
Daniel, Luke, and Matty. Mom, I’ll catch up with you and Dad in the
dedication.
“Appreciation” doesn’t quite express Sheila’s indebtedness to her
husband, John Richardson, and kids, Ben, Petey, and Addy. They each put
up with a consuming project and pretended they weren’t keeping that favors
ledger I found behind the sofa. My amazing parents, Jack and Joyce,
bestowed a lifetime’s worth of acceptance and appreciation as well as a
healthy skepticism about others’ opinions of you, both good and bad. And
my grandmother Christine, who passed away at age 105 partway through
this project, demonstrated daily the gift of being able to laugh at yourself.
Robert and Susan, Jill and Jason, Stacy and Dan, Jim and Susan, Fred and
Jessica, Andrew and Amanda—each seemed to know just the right time to
inquire or encourage. It’s the feedback from each of you that is most
important to my own sense of self, and you have been compassionately
sparing, always.
A couple of words about grammar and names. We often use the gender-
neutral “they” in place of “he or she.” Though grammatically incorrect, it’s
a simple and clear way of describing those who are giving us feedback. We
wish to pre-thank those readers who refrain from sending complaints to
Viking Penguin. Such complaints would give them one more reason to say,
“We told you so.”
Though the names in the book represent a range of cultures and
traditions, we comment on culture only indirectly. Culture, of course, can
have a profound impact on the way feedback is given and heard; even so,
it’s our observation that the fears, frustrations, and triggered reactions we
have when receiving feedback are deeply human and universal.
And finally, our heartfelt appreciation to all those whom we’ve met and
will meet, who have the courage, curiosity, and commitment to seek out and
take in feedback when it matters most.
NOTES ON SOME RELEVANT ORGANIZATIONS
THE PROGRAM ON NEGOTIATION (PON) AT HARVARD LAW
SCHOOL
When Roger Fisher, Bill Ury, and Bruce Patton founded the Harvard
Negotiation Project (HNP) in 1979, they couldn’t have anticipated how
quickly the negotiation field would grow. In 1983 HNP gave birth to PON,
an umbrella organization and interuniversity consortium focused on
negotiation, mediation, dispute systems, and conflict resolution. Today
PON brings together a multidisciplinary community of researchers and
practitioners, and includes HNP and nine other projects focused on theory
building, social science research, and excellence in teaching and clinical
education.
HNP
Under the leadership of Director Professor James Sebenius, current HNP
projects include the Great Negotiator Study Initiative and the China
Negotiation Initiative. Past projects have included work on process that
contributed to the Camp David Accords of 1978; a training for all parties to
the negotiation process before the constitutional talks that ended apartheid
in South Africa; and a joint workshop for U.S. and Soviet diplomats among
many others. HNP is perhaps best known for the development of the theory
of “principled negotiation,” as presented in Getting to Yes, first published in
1981 (Penguin, 2011—third edition). Other books by the HNP team include
Difficult Conversations (Penguin, 2010—second edition); Getting Past No
(Bantam, 1993); Getting It Done (HarperBusiness, 1998); Beyond Reason
(Penguin, 2006); and 3D Negotiation (Harvard Business Review Press,
2006).
PON
Led by Professor Robert Mnookin and Executive Director Susan Hackley,
PON seeks to nurture the next generation of negotiation teachers and
scholars. Through a variety of lenses, including law, business, government,
psychology, economics, anthropology, the arts, and education, members of
the PON community seek to illuminate the causes of conflict and offer
prescriptive advice for managing conflict skillfully and efficiently. Why did
a deal fail that would have benefited both companies? Why did one country
resolve differences peacefully, while another fought a bloody civil war?
Why are some divorcing couples able to mediate their separation amicably,
while others fight painfully and expensively in court? PON is working to
push the theory forward and to help disseminate these competencies around
the world.
THE CLEARINGHOUSE
As part of its commitment to conflict management and negotiation
education, PON has developed a wealth of negotiation simulations, teaching
notes, videotaped demonstrations, and interactive video and electronic
lessons. These are available through PON’s Clearinghouse and Harvard
Business School Publishing.
EXECUTIVE EDUCATION
HNP pioneered the Negotiation Workshop course in the Harvard Law
School curriculum and HNP and PON offer executive education through the
Harvard Negotiation Institute (HNI) and PON’s Executive Seminar series.
Sheila Heen, Bruce Patton, and Douglas Stone offer an advanced course on
Difficult Business Conversations for executives through both HNI and the
PON Exec Ed series. For more information, see www.pon.harvard.edu.
TRIAD CONSULTING GROUP
Founded by Douglas Stone and Sheila Heen, Triad is a global consulting
and corporate education firm based in Harvard Square in Cambridge,
Massachusetts.
Whether you’re rolling out a major change initiative or seeking to
improve the day-to-day management skills of senior executives, we can
help. We work with clients to strengthen individual and organizational
capacity in a range of areas, including
Difficult Conversations
Negotiation and Problem Solving
The Influence Equation
Making Teams Work
Enhancing Impact Through the Systems Practice
Feedback and Learning
Typical consulting engagements include coaching an executive team to
function effectively when stakes are high and stakeholders divided; helping
to improve collaboration within and across functions; using systems
mapping to guide resource deployment and to optimize the impact of key
initiatives.
We offer executive coaching, team intervention, mediation and
facilitation, and keynote presentations and retreat experiences. We partner
with clients to design programs that respond to their context and challenges,
ensuring that the approach is relevant and realistic. Triad harnesses
connection and humor to enable senior executives to be honest with
themselves and one another about what they are up against. We know a lot
of this is tough stuff, and we’re in it with you.
Our clients span a dozen industries and six continents. They include
BAE, BHP, Capital One, Capgemini, Citigroup, the Educational Testing
Service, the Federal Reserve Bank, Genzyme, Hess, Honda, HSBC,
Johnson & Johnson, Massachusetts General Hospital, Merck, Metlife,
Novartis, Prudential, PwC, Shell, TimeWarner, Unilever, and Verizon.
In the public sector, we have worked with the White House, the
Singapore Supreme Court, the Ethiopian Parliament, UN/AIDS, The Nature
Conservancy, the Arctic Slope Regional Corporation, and New England
Organ Bank. Members of our team have taught and mediated in South
Africa, the Middle East, Kashmir, Iraq, Afghanistan, and Cyprus. Our
consultants teach at Harvard Law School, Georgetown Law School,
Dartmouth’s Tuck School of Business, Tufts Fletcher School and School of
Medicine, Boston College, the University of Wisconsin, and MIT’s Sloan
School of Business. We have authored dozens of popular and scholarly
books and articles in the field.
Feel free to e-mail us at info@diffcon.com; call us at (617) 547-1728;
and visit Triad on the Web at www.triadconsultinggroup.com.
It all starts with a conversation.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Douglas Stone is a Lecturer on Law at Harvard Law School and a founder
of Triad Consulting Group (www.triadconsultinggroup.com). In addition to
corporate clients such as Citigroup, Honda, Johnson & Johnson, Shell, and
Turner Broadcasting, Stone has worked with journalists, educators, doctors,
diplomats, and political leaders in South Africa, Kashmir, and the Middle
East, and in Geneva with the World Health Organization and UN/AIDS. He
has trained senior political appointees at the White House and was a
keynote speaker at the World Negotiation Conference in São Paulo. His
articles have appeared in publications ranging from the New York Times to
Real Simple and the Harvard Business Review, and he has appeared on
Oprah, NPR, and many other television and radio shows. He is a graduate
of Harvard Law School, where he served as Associate Director of the
Harvard Negotiation Project. He can be reached at
dstone@post.harvard.edu.
Sheila Heen is a Lecturer on Law at Harvard Law School and a founder of
Triad Consulting Group (www.triadconsultinggroup.com). Her clients span
five continents and include TimeWarner, the Federal Reserve Bank, HSBC,
Metlife, Novartis, PwC, and Unilever. Heen often works with executive
teams to engage conflict productively, repair working relationships, make
sound decisions, and execute change in complex organizations. In the
public sector she has consulted for the New England Organ Bank, the
Singapore Supreme Court, Greek and Turkish Cypriots, and the Arctic
Slope Regional Corporation in Barrow, Alaska. Heen has worked with
theologians struggling with disagreement over the nature of truth and God,
and with senior political appointees for the White House. She has published
in the New York Times and the Harvard Business Review, and appeared on
shows as diverse as Oprah, Fox News, CNBC’s Power Lunch, and NPR. A
graduate of Harvard Law School, she is schooled in negotiation daily by her
three children. She can be reached at heen@post.harvard.edu.
For more about Doug and Sheila and free downloads to help yourself, visit
us at www.stoneandheen.com.
NOTES
Introduction: From Push to Pull
1. every schoolchild will be handed back as many as 300 assignments, papers, and tests:
American schoolchildren between the ages of 6 and 17 spend an average of 3 hours and 58
minutes on homework daily (www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/Do-Kids-Have-Too-Much-
Homework.html), and the average school year is 180 days
(www.nces.ed.gov/surveys/pss/tables/table_15.asp). If we assume one or two daily assignments,
and add term papers, pop quizzes, midterms, finals, and standardized testing, 300 is a
conservative estimate, particularly for high school students. Millions of kids will be assessed as
they try out for a team or audition to be cast in a school play: Thirty-five million children in
the United States play organized sports each year (www.statisticbrain.com/youth-sports-
statistics); there are 98,817 public schools in the United States
(www.nces.ed.gov/fastfacts/display.asp?id=84), and 19 percent of those schools (18,775) offer
drama programs (www.nces.ed.gov/surveys/frss/publications/2002131/index.asp?sectionid=3).
Many of the 33,366 private schools also have drama programs. Almost 2 million teenagers will
receive SAT scores (www.press.collegeboard.org/sat/faq) and face college verdicts thick and
thin (www.statisticbrain.com/college-enrollment-statistics). At least 40 million people will be
sizing up one another for love online, where 71 percent of them believe they can judge love
at first sight (www.statisticbrain.com/online-dating-statistics); 250,000 weddings will be
called off (www.skybride.com/about), and 877,000 spouses will file for divorce
(www.cdc.gov/nchs/nvss/marriage_divorce_tables.htm): Centers for Disease Control numbers
include annulments but exclude data from California, Georgia, Hawaii, Indiana, Louisiana, and
Minnesota. U.S. Census Bureau records suggest that the annual divorce numbers run around 1.1
million (www.census.gov/compendia/statab/2012/tables/12s0132.pdf).
2. Twelve million people will lose a job: Census records show that there were 12,645,000 job losses
in the private sector in 2010 (the last year for which data is available). This excludes nonprofits
and the self-employed. www.census.gov/compendia/statab/2012/tables/1250635.pdf). More
than 500,000 entrepreneurs will open their doors for the first time, and almost 600,000 will
shut theirs for the last: The Small Business Administration shows 533,945 small business
“births” and 593,347 “deaths” for the year 2009-2010. (www.sba.gov/advocacy/849/12162).
3. between 50 and 90 percent of employees will receive performance reviews this year: Statistics
range widely, from those reported by the CEB that 51 percent of companies conduct formal
reviews annually (reported here: www.westchestermagazine.com/914-INC/Q2-2013/Improving-
Performance-Review-Policies-for-Managers-and-Employees) to the 91% of HR professionals
surveyed who reported that their organization has a formal performance-management program
(www.worldatwork.org/waw/adimLink?id=44473). Organizations with an HR function would
be more likely to have a formal system; those that don’t may have informal performance
practices. 825 million work hours . . . are spent each year preparing for and engaging in
annual reviews: According to the International Labor Office’s LABORSTA database, the
global labor pool consists of approximately 3.3 billion workers
(www.laborsta.ilo.org/applv8/data/EAPEP/eapep_E.html). If even half of them receive some
sort of review, and we estimate those reviews take 30 minutes to prepare for and execute on, that
comes to 94,178 years. The managers who are conducting the reviews would of course do
multiple reviews, so this is probably a conservative estimate.
4. 360-degree feedback is a process by which feedback is solicited from colleagues who are above
you, below you, and who are your peers. This input, often scrubbed of identifying details so that
it is anonymous, is collected into a report and provided to the receiver.
5. Merriam-Websters Collegiate Dictionary, 9th ed. (1986).
6. Fifty-five percent . . . said their performance review was unfair or inaccurate: 2011 survey
from Globoforce, www.bizjournals.com/boston/news/2011/04/29/survey-majority-hate-
performance.html. Cornerstone on Demand survey puts the statistic at 51 percent. See
www.getworksimple.com/blog/2012/01/20/4-statistics-that-prove-performance-reviews-don’t-
work-for-the-modern-worker. One in four employees dreads their performance review: See
2011 Globoforce survey, above.
7. Results of the 2010 Study on the State of Performance Management, survey of 750 HR
professionals by Sibson Consulting and World at Work, Fall 2010. Only 20 percent report that
when corporate performance is poor, individual ratings go down, indicating poor correlation
between individual performance and organizational performance. And just 40 percent say their
leaders model performance management through evaluation and coaching of direct reports.
http://www.sibson.com/publications/surveysandstudies/2010SPM.pdf.
8. For an overview of feedback-seeking behavior, see Michiel Crommelinck and Frederick Anseel,
“Understanding and Encouraging Feedback-Seeking Behavior: A Literature Review,” Medical
Education 2013; 47: 232–241, doi:10.1111/medu.12075. The connection between negative-
feedback seeking and performance reviews is explored in Z. G. Chen, W. Lam, J. A. Zhong,
“Leader-Member Exchange and Member Performance: A New Look at Individual-Level
Negative Feedback-Seeking Behaviour and Team-Level Empowerment Climate,” J Appl
Psychol 2007;92 (1):202–12, and in S. J. Ashford, A. S. Tsui, “Self-Regulation for Managerial
Effectiveness—the Role of Active Feedback Seeking,” Acad Manage J 1991;34 (2):251–80.
Studies that show a link between feedback-seeking behavior and creativity include J. Zhou,
“Promoting Creativity Through Feedback,” in J. Zhou, C. E. Shalley, eds Handbook of
Organizational Creativity. New York, NY: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates 2008; 125–46, and
DEM De Stobbeleir, S. J. Ashford, and D. Buyens, “Self-Regulation of Creativity at Work: The
Role of Feedback-Seeking Behavior in Creative Performance,” Acad Manage J 2011;54
(4):811–31. Exploration of feedback seeking and adaptation can be found in E. W. Morrison,
“Longitudinal Study of the Effects of Information Seeking on Newcomer Socialization,” J Appl
Psychol 1993;78 (2):173–83; C. R. Wanberg and J. D. Kammeyer-Mueller, “Predictors and
Outcomes of Proactivity in the Socialization Process,” J Appl Psychol 2000;85 (3):373–85; and
E. W. Morrison, “Newcomer Information-Seeking—Exploring Types, Modes, Sources, and
Outcomes,” Acad Manage J 1993;36 (3):557–89.
9. S. Carrere, et al. “Predicting Marital Stability and Divorce in Newlywed Couples,” Journal of
Family Psychology 14(1)(2000): 42–58. See generally: www.gottman.com. We note that
Gottman’s research relates specifically to the correlation between a husband’s openness to input
from his spouse and the health of the marriage. Whatever Gottman’s particular findings, it’s our
view that openness on anyone’s part will likely improve the health of a relationship.
10. Thomas Friedman, “It’s a 401(k) World,” New York Times, May 1, 2013.
Chapter 2: Separate Appreciation, Coaching, and Evaluation
1. The appreciation, coaching, and evaluation distinctions were introduced to us by John Richardson,
and are described in a book Richardson wrote with Roger Fisher and Alan Sharp called Getting
It Done: How to Lead When You’re Not in Charge (HarperBusiness, 1999).
2. Marcus Buckingham and Curt Coffman, First Break All the Rules: What the World’s Greatest
Managers Do Differently (Simon & Schuster, 1999), 28, 34.
3. Gary Chapman, The 5 Love Languages: The Secret to Love That Lasts (Northfield Publishing,
2009).
Chapter 3: First Understand
1. This diagram (the Feedback Arrow) and the concepts that follow are based in part on the “ladder
of inference,” a tool developed by Chris Argyris and Don Schön.
2. Roger Schank: http://www.rogerschank.com/artificialintelligence.html. See also Schank’s Tell Me
a Story: Narrative and Intelligence (Northwestern University Press, 1995).
3. The confirmation bias describes our propensity to notice information that conforms with our
preexisting views. See Raymond S. Nickerson, “Confirmation Bias: A Ubiquitous Phenomenon
in Many Guises,” Review of General Psychology (Educational Publishing Foundation) 2(2)
(1998): 175–220.
4. The self-serving bias describes our tendency to attribute our successes to our own abilities, and our
failures to external factors. This can lead to an inflated sense of our own abilities in relationship
to the abilities of others. For the driving example, see O. Svenson, “Are We All Less Risky and
More Skillful Than Our Fellow Drivers?” Acta Psychologica 47(2) (Feb. 1981): 143–48. The
managers’ inflated sense of their own performance comes from a 2007 BusinessWeek poll of
2000 U.S. executives (www.businessweek.com/stories/2007-08-19/ten-years-from-now-and).
5. David Foster Wallace, This Is Water: Some Thoughts, Delivered on a Significant Occasion, about
Living a Compassionate Life (Little, Brown and Company, 2009).
Chapter 4: See Your Blind Spots
1. Steven Johnson, Mind Wide Open: Your Brain and the Neuroscience of Everyday Life (Scribner,
2004), 31–32. For a fascinating discussion of human iris size and the evolution of cooperation,
see Michael Tomasello, “For Human Eyes Only,” New York Times, January 13, 2007.
2. For an overview of theory of mind see Alvin I. Goldman, “Theory of Mind,” in Oxford Handbook
of Philosophy and Cognitive Science, ed. Eric Margolis, Richard Samuels, and Stephen Stich
(Oxford University Press, 2012), 402.
3. See, for example, Simon Baron-Cohen, Alan M. Leslie, Uta Frith, “Does the Autistic Child Have a
‘Theory of Mind’?” Cognition 21 (1985) 37–46.
4. Johnson, Mind Wide Open, 31–32.
5. Albert Mehrabian, Nonverbal Communication (Aldine Transaction, 2007). Mehrabian, an emeritus
professor at U.C.L.A., claims that tone of voice accounts for 38 percent of our message, body
language 55 percent and the actual words spoken, only 7 percent.
6. Jon Hamilton, “Infants Recognize Voices, Emotions by 7 Months,” National Public Radio, March
24, 2010: http://www.wbur.org/npr/125123354/infants-recognize-voices-emotions-by-7-months.
Also, Annett Schirmer and Sonja Kotz, “Beyond the Right Hemisphere: Brain Mechanisms
Mediating Vocal Emotional Processing,” in Trends in Cognitive Sciences 10(1) (Jan. 2006): 24–
30.
7. Atul Gawande, “Personal Best,” New Yorker, October 3, 2011.
8. Sophie Scott, Institute of Cognitive Neuroscience, University College, London, interview on
Science Friday with Ira Flatow, May 29, 2009: http://m.npr.org/story/104708408.
9. See, for example, Paul Ekman, Emotions Revealed: Recognizing Faces and Feelings to Improve
Communication and Emotional Life (Holt Paperbacks, 2007). Ekman argues that due in part to
involuntary movement of certain facial muscles, we are not as good at disguising our emotions
as we think we are.
10. This is known as the actor-observer asymmetry (Jones and Nisbett, 1971). The actor tends to
attribute their behavior to the situation, while the observer tends to attribute the actors behavior
to the actors character. A related concept is the fundamental attribution error (Lee Ross, 1967),
which states that when we describe the behavior of others, we overemphasize character and
underemphasize situation.
11. Robert I. Sutton, Good Boss, Bad Boss: How to Be the Best . . . and Learn from the Worst
(Business Plus, 2010), 211.
12. Alex Pentland, Honest Signals: How They Shape Our World (MIT Press, 2008). For an overview
of research and applications, see Pentland, “To Signal Is Human,” American Scientist 98 (May–
June 2010), http://web.media.mit.edu/~sandy/2010-05Pentland.pdf.
13. In a New York Times article titled “I Know What You Think of Me” (June 15, 2013), writer Tim
Kreider discusses the negative effects of receiving an e-mail from a friend about himself that
was intended for another friend: “I’ve often thought that the single most devastating
cyberattack . . . would not be on the military or financial sector but simply to simultaneously
make every e-mail and text ever sent universally public . . . the fabric of society would instantly
evaporate. . . . Hearing other people’s uncensored opinions of you is an unpleasant reminder
that . . . everyone else does not always view you in the forgiving light that you hope they do,
making all allowances, always on your side.”
Chapter 5: Don’t Switchtrack
1. “Flowers for Kim,” Lucky Louie, Episode 6 (2006). Dialogue is slightly edited for language.
2. The fundamental attribution error was coined by Lee Ross in 1977. L. Ross, “The Intuitive
Psychologist and His Shortcomings: Distortions in the Attribution Process,” in L. Berkowitz,
Advances in Experimental Social Psychology (1977).
3. We like people who like us, and are like us. See Robert Cialdini, Influence: The Psychology of
Persuasion (HarperBusiness, 2006), especially chapter 5, “Liking: The Friendly Thief.”
4. For more on autonomy in negotiation, see Roger Fisher and Daniel Shapiro, Beyond Reason:
Using Emotions as You Negotiate (Penguin, 2006).
Chapter 6: Identify the Relationship System
1. Interview with John Gottman by Randall C. Wyatt in 2001 on psychotherapy.net,
http://www.psychotherapy.net/interview/john-gottman.
2. For a useful elaboration on relationship systems in business, see Diana McLain Smith, The
Elephant in the Room: How Relationships Make or Break the Success of Leaders and
Organizations (Jossey-Bass, 2011).
3. Peter M. Senge, Fifth Discipline Fieldbook: Strategies and Tools for Building a Learning
Organization. Crown Business; 1 edition (1994). “Accidental Adversaries” is described by
Jennifer Kemeny, based on her work in the 1980s, on pages 145–48.
4. Robert Ricigliano has explored the value of a systems perspective in conflict. See Robert
Ricigliano, Making Peace Last: A Toolbox for Sustainable Peacebuilding (Paradigm Publishers,
2012).
5. Daniel Kim, Michael Goodman, Charlotte Roberts, Jennifer Kemeny, “Archetype 1: ‘Fixes That
Backfire,’” in Peter M. Senge, The Fifth Discipline Fieldbook: Strategies and Tools for Building
a Learning Organization (Doubleday, 1994).
Chapter 7: Learn How Wiring and Temperament Affect Your Story
1. Enormous appreciation goes to neuropsychologist Dr. Cate Fortier for her review of this material,
and to Dr. Robin Weatherill for her insight and overview.
2. For a classic article introducing the idea of adaptability and subjective well-being, see: P.
Brickman and D. T. Campbell, “Hedonic Relativism and Planning the Good Society,” in
Adaptation-Level Theory, ed. M. H. Appley (New York: Academic Press, 1971), 287–305.
Adaptability is also referred to in the literature as “set point theory,” the “hedonistic treadmill,”
and “adaptability theory.”
3. D. Lykken and A. Tellegen, “Happiness Is a Stochastic Phenomenon,” Psychological Science 7
(1996): 186–89. Lykken suggests that 50 to 80 percent may be genetic; other studies suggest
closer to 50 percent. See S. Lyubomirsky, K. Sheldon, and D. Schkade, “Pursuing Happiness:
The Architecture of Sustainable Change,” Review of General Psychology 9(2) (2005): 111–31.
4. Piece compared lottery winners and those with spinal cord injuries: P. Brickman, D. Coates, and R.
Janoff-Bulman, “Lottery Winners and Accident Victims: Is Happiness Relative?” Journal of
Personality and Social Psychology 36 (1978): 917–27. Other research, however, suggests that
the matter is more complicated. See, for example, The Effects of Winning the Lottery on
Happiness, Life Satisfaction, and Mood, by D. Richard J. Tunney (Nottingham: University of
Nottingham, 2006).
5. A number of researchers have suggested that happy individuals react more strongly to pleasant
stimuli and that unhappy individuals react more strongly to unpleasant stimuli. See R. J. Larsen
and T. Ketelaar, “Personality and Susceptibility to Positive and Negative Emotional States,”
Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 61 (1991): 132–40.
6. For an overview of Jerome Kagan’s work, see Robin Marantz Henig, “Understanding the Anxious
Mind,” New York Times, September 29, 2009. See also Jerome Kagan and Nancy Snidman, The
Long Shadow of Temperament (Belknap Press, 2009).
7. C. E. Schwartz, et al., “Structural Differences in Adult Orbital and Ventromedial Prefrontal Cortex
Predicted by Infant Temperament at 4 Months of Age,” Archives of General Psychiatry 67(1)
(Jan. 2010): 78–84.
8. Jonathan Haidt, The Happiness Hypothesis: Finding Modern Truth in Ancient Wisdom (New York:
Basic Books, 2006), 29.
9. The limbic system is believed to have evolved with the first mammals, more than 100 million
years ago. For an excellent overview of the evolution of the brain, see “The Evolutionary Layers
of the Human Brain,”
http://thebrain.mcgill.ca/flash/d/d_05/d_05_cr/d_05_cr_her/d_05_cr_her.html.
10. Richard J. Davidson, Ph.D., with Sharon Begley, The Emotional Life of Your Brain: How Its
Unique Patterns Affect the Way You Think, Feel, and Live—and How You Can Change Them
(Hudson Street Press, 2002), 41 and 69.
11. Ibid., 24–39.
12. A separate 2012 review of fMRI and PET scan studies done between 1990 and 2007 concluded
that a “locational” theory of distinct emotions is less supported than the “conceptual” theory—
i.e., that different parts of the brain are involved in interpreting emotions and events. K.
Lindquist, et al., “The Brain Basis of Emotion: A Meta-Analytic Review,” Behavioral Brain
Sciences 35 (2012): 121–43.
13. Two primary studies: R. J. Davidson, “What Does the Prefrontal Cortex ‘Do’ in Affect:
Perspectives in Frontal EEG Asymmetry Research,” Biological Psychology 67 (2004): 219–34.
On the differences in white matter, see: M. J. Kim and P. J. Whalen, “The Structural Integrity of
an Amygdala-Prefrontal Pathway Predicts Trait Anxiety,” Journal of Neuroscience 29 (2009):
11614–18.
14. In The Resilience Factor: 7 Keys to Finding Your Inner Strength and Overcoming Life’s Hurdles
(New York: Broadway Books, 2002), Karen Reivich and Andrew Shatté talk about resilience
having four uses—to overcome obstacles in childhood, to steer through everyday frustrations, to
bounce back from major setbacks, and to reach out to achieve all you can. We are using it in the
biological sense here, but the impact would affect all of these, which we refer to at various times
throughout the book.
15. Davidson with Begley, Emotional Life of Your Brain, 83–85.
16. Richard Davidson has created questionnaires that can help you get a handle on your profile with
respect to both the time it takes you to recover from negative feelings, and your ability to sustain
positive feelings. See Davidson and Begley, Emotional Life of Your Brain, 46–49.
17. See S. Lyubomirsky, K. Sheldon, and D. Schkade, “Pursuing Happiness: The Architecture of
Sustainable Change,” Review of General Psychology 9(2) (2005): 111–31. See also Martin E. P.
Seligman, Flourish: A Visionary New Understanding of Happiness and Well-being (Atria
Books, 2012), 157 and 159.
18. Seligman, Flourish, 157 and 159.
19. Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience (Harper Perennial,
2008).
20. Haidt, Happiness Hypothesis, 30–31.
21. Variations on what we are calling “snowballing” have also been referred to as catastrophizing.
See David D. Burns, Feeling Good. Harper (reprint edition 2009), p. 42. Chris Argyris refers to
the phenomenon as the “doom zoom” in “Teaching Smart People How to Learn,” Harvard
Business Review May–June 1991, p. 104.
Chapter 8: Dismantle Distortions
1. Our ideas on the relationship between thoughts, feelings, and story, and how to “contain the
feedback” are informed by work in the fields of cognitive and narrative therapy. See, for
example, Martin E. P. Seligman, Authentic Happiness: Using the New Positive Psychology to
Realize Your Potential for Lasting Fulfillment (Atria Books, 2004); Aaron T. Beck, Love Is
Never Enough: How Couples Can Overcome Misunderstandings, Resolve Conflicts, and Solve
Relationship Problems Through Cognitive Therapy (Harper Perennial, 1989); and Michael
White and David Epstein, Narrative Means to Therapeutic Ends (W. W. Norton & Company,
1990).
2. Daniel Gilbert, Stumbling on Happiness (Vintage, 2007), 167.
3. People’s tendency to overestimate the extent to which anyone else is paying attention to them is
referred to as the “spotlight effect” or egocentrism. For more on the spotlight effect, see Thomas
Gilovich and Kenneth Savitsky, “The Spotlight Effect and the Illusion of Transparency:
Egocentric Assessments of How We Are Seen by Others,” Current Directions in Psychological
Science 8(6) (Dec. 1999).
Chapter 9: Cultivate a Growth Identity
1. There is evidence that Western cultures—American and European—are more likely to describe
self in abstract trait terms (I’m honest, I’m smart), while Asian cultures—Chinese, Korean,
Indian—are more likely to describe self in contextual and relational terms (I’m a student, I’m a
brother). For more on cultural differences in self-concept and character, see Incheol Choi,
Richard E. Nisbett, and Ara Norenzayan, “Causal Attribution Across Cultures: Variation and
Universality,” Psychological Bulletin 125(1) (1999): 47–63.
2. Leon Festinger first proposed the idea that we measure ourselves against our peers, called social
comparison theory. See L. Festinger, “A Theory of Social Comparison Processes,” Human
Relations 7 (1954): 117–40.
3. This observation was made by our colleague Jeffrey Kerr in conversation.
4. From Carol S. Dweck, Mindset: The New Psychology of Success (Ballantine Books, 2006) 3.
5. Ibid., 4.
6. Ibid.
7. Dweck, Mindset, 11, describing research conducted with Joyce Ehrlinger.
8. Jennifer A. Mangels, Brady Butterfield, Justin Lamb, Catherine Good, and Carol S. Dweck, “Why
Do Beliefs About Intelligence Influence Learning Success? A Social Cognitive Neuroscience
Model,” Soc Cogn Affect Neurosci. 2006 September; 1(2): 75–86.
9. Carol Dweck, “Brainology: Transforming Students’ Motivation to Learn,” NAIS Independent
Schools Magazine, Winter 2008, www.nais.org/Magazines-Newsletters/IS
Magazine/Pages/Brainology.aspx, accessed September 18, 2013. Article contains a helpful
summary of key research on fixed- and growth-mindset responses to struggle or failure.
10. This Identity chart is an adaptation of Dweck’s chart in Mindset, 245.
11. The ability to distinguish assessment and judgment may help explain why people with fixed
mindsets are notoriously poor at assessing their own abilities. People with growth mindsets
more accurately assess their current abilities, perhaps because they don’t have the same sense of
judgment about where they stand. Where they stand is only a momentary stop on the journey to
where they are going.
Chapter 10: How Good Do I Have to Be?
1. Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life (Pantheon, 1994), 44.
2. For helpful advice on how to say no, see William Ury, The Power of a Positive No: Save the Deal,
Save the Relationship and Still Say No (Bantam, 2007).
Chapter 11: Navigate the Conversation
1. The first short film using computer animation and keyframing was the 1974 film Hunger.
(“Keyframing” is spelled as one word, as is “inbetweening.”) Thanks to John Hughes and
Pauline Ts’o at Rhythm & Hues for showing us firsthand how computer animation works.
2. Jared R. Curhan and Alex Pentland, “Thin Slices of Negotiation: Predicting Outcomes from
Conversational Dynamics Within the First 5 Minutes,” Journal of Applied Psychology 92(3)
(2007): 802–11.
3. John Gottman and Nan Silver, Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work (Three Rivers Press,
2000), 22, 27, 39–40. See also J. M. Gottman and R. W. Levenson, “Marital Processes
Predictive of Later Dissolution: Behavior, Physiology, and Health,” Journal of Personality and
Social Psychology 63 (1992): 221–33; and J. M. Gottman and C. I. Notarius, “Decade Review:
Observing Marital Interaction,” Journal of Marriage and the Family 62 (2000): 927–47.
4. T. Singer, et al., “Empathy for Pain Involves the Affective but Not Sensory Components of Pain,”
Science 33(5661) (Feb. 20, 2004): 1157–62. Watching anothers pain does not activate the entire
“pain matrix,” but only the part of the brain associated with its affective qualities (bilateral
anterior insula, rostral anterior cingulate cortex, brainstem, and cerebellum), but not its sensory
qualities (posterior insula/secondary somatosensory cortex, sensorimotor cortex, and caudal
anterior cingulate cortex). You don’t feel physical pain, but you feel the emotions correlated
with physical pain. Of note: People who scored higher on two empathy questionnaires also had
stronger mirror neuron brain activity.
5. T. Singer, et al., “Empathic Neural Responses Are Modulated by the Perceived Fairness of
Others,” Nature 439 (Jan. 26, 2006): 466–69. Interestingly, it was overwhelmingly men who had
the revenge reaction; it is yet unclear whether this holds generally across studies or is a function
of this particular cohort.
6. The interpretation of interruptions varies across cultures. If you are operating in a culture with
implicit (or explicit) rules against interrupting (a superior, or an elder, for example), you might
instead write down key points and your questions as you listen, letting them know that you are
taking notes in order to best understand what they are saying. After they finish, you can ask
questions at an appropriate time and place. The goal is to be respectful and engaged, and to
work with them to clarify their feedback. Linguist Deborah Tannen has an interesting discussion
of culture and interruption in Conversational Style: Analyzing Talk Among Friends (Oxford
University Press, 2005).
7. Roger Fisher, William Ury, and Bruce Patton, Getting to Yes: Negotiating Agreement Without
Giving In, 3rd ed. (Penguin, 2011). For an application of these ideas specifically to law and
business, see Robert H. Mnookin, Scott R. Peppet, and Andrew S. Tulumello, Beyond Winning:
Negotiating to Create Value in Deals and Disputes (Belknap Press, 2004), and David A. Lax
and James K. Sebenius, 3-D Negotiation: Powerful Tools to Change the Game in Your Most
Important Deals (Harvard Business Review Press, 2006).
Chapter 12: Get Going
1. See this original study at R. F. Baumeister, et al., “Ego Depletion: Is the Active Self a Limited
Resource?” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 74(5) (1998): 1252–65. The
participants asked to refrain from eating cookies were asked to eat radishes instead. The cookie
eaters made an average of 34.29 attempts and persisted for 18.9 minutes, while the radish eaters
made an average of 19.4 attempts while persisting for 8.35 minutes. It’s reasonable to wonder
whether the different amounts of sugar intake and resulting blood glucose levels might have
increased the cookie eaters’ energy. The researchers did not find a correlation between glucose
levels and willpower. For an expanded discussion of willpower, see Roy Baumeister and John
Tierney, Willpower: Rediscovering the Greatest Human Strength (Penguin, 2012).
2. Atul Gawande, “Personal Best,” New Yorker, October 3, 2011.
3. Chuck Leddy, “Coaching Tips from Gawande: Surgeon-Author Sees Gain for Teachers in On-the-
Job Guidance,” Harvard Gazette, October 25, 2012.
4. T. C. Schelling, “Egonomics, or the Art of Self-Management,” American Economic Review, 68
(1978), 290-294. See also, Thomas C. Schelling, Strategy of Conflict (Harvard University Press,
1981).
5. Nick Paumgarten, “Master of Play,” New Yorker, December 20, 2010.
6. The term “gamification” was coined by Nick Pelling in 2002. The concept and approach has
moved into mainstream use since about 2010, with the business world using it to increase
customer engagement and loyalty, Wikipedia using it to increase contributions (by 64 percent!),
and education using gamification principles to find ways to increase student participation in
learning. The movement also has its vociferous critics. See blog post by Ben Betts at
http://www.astd.org/Publications/Blogs/Learning-Technologies-Blog/2013/03/Gamification-
Meet-Gamefulness, and for a more general critique, Alfie Kohn, Punished by Rewards: The
Trouble with Gold Stars, As, Praise and Other Bribes (Mariner Books, 1999).
7. For a slightly different take on this, see Seth Godin, The Dip: A Little Book That Teaches You
When to Quit (and When to Stick) (Portfolio Hardcover, 2007).
8. For an overview of feedback-seeking behavior, see Michiel Crommelinck and Frederick Anseel,
“Understanding and Encouraging Feedback-Seeking Behavior: A Literature Review” in Medical
Education 2013; 47: 232–41, doi:10.1111/medu.12075. The connection between negative-
feedback seeking and performance reviews is explored in Z. G. Chen, W. Lam, and J. A. Zhong,
“Leader-Member Exchange and Member Performance: A New Look at Individual-Level
Negative Feedback-Seeking Behaviour and Team-Level Empowerment Climate,” J Appl
Psychol 2007;92 (1):202–12; and in S. J. Ashford, A. S. Tsui, “Self-Regulation for Managerial
Effectiveness—The Role of Active Feedback Seeking,” Acad Manage J 1991;34 (2): 251–80.
Chapter 13: Pull Together
1. Results of the 2010 Study on the State of Performance Management, survey of 750 HR
professionals by Sibson Consulting and World at Work, Fall 2010. Only 20 percent report that
when corporate performance is poor, individual ratings go down, indicating poor correlation
between individual performance and organizational performance. And just 40 percent say their
leaders model performance management through evaluation and coaching of direct reports;
http://www.sibson.com/publications/surveysandstudies/2010SPM.pdf.
2. Susan Heathfield, “Performance Appraisals Don’t Work,” Human Resources, available at
www.humanresources.about.com/od/performanceevals/a/perf_appraisal.html. Accessed
February 2013.
3. Brené Brown, October 2012, from her presentation at the Linkage Global Institute for Leadership
Development Conference, Palm Desert, CA.
4. Dick Grote, 12:17PM September 12, 2011, “The Myth of Performance Metrics,” Harvard Business
Review blog post, at www.blogs.hbr.org/cs/2011/09/the_myth_of_performance_metric.html?
cm_sp=blog_flyout-_-cs-_-the_myth_of_performance_metric. Grote is the author of How to Be
Good at Performance Appraisals: Simple, Effective, Done Right (Harvard Business Review
Press, 2011).
5. Results of the 2010 Study of Performance Management (Fall 2010) 4. When asked who the biggest
champions of the performance management system are, 73 percent report it’s the top HR
executive; 30 percent say the CEO (totals equal more than 100 percent because they could select
more than one response).
6. Ibid., 5.
7. For an in-depth examination of psychological safety in the workplace, see Amy Edmondson,
Teaming: How Organizations Learn, Innovate, and Compete in the Knowledge Economy
(Jossey-Bass, 2012).
8. For more analysis and advice on appreciation in the workplace, see Gary Chapman and Paul
White, The 5 Languages of Appreciation in the Workplace: Empowering Organizations by
Encouraging People (Northfield Publishing, 2011).
9. The concept of multitrack diplomacy is presented in William D. Davidson and Joseph V.
Montville, “Foreign Policy According to Freud,” Foreign Policy 45 (Winter 1981–82): 145–57.
These principles are at the philosophical core of ongoing work done by the Institute for Multi-
Track Diplomacy, founded by John W. McDonald and Louise Diamond.
10. Robert Cialdini, Influence: The Psychology of Persuasion (HarperBusiness, 2006).
ROAD MAP
INTRODUCTION
From Push to Pull
WHAT COUNTS AS FEEDBACK?
A BRIEF HISTORY OF FEEDBACK
PULL BEATS PUSH
THE TENSION BETWEEN LEARNING AND BEING ACCEPTED
THE BENEFITS OF RECEIVING WELL
DIGGING FOR PONIES
THE FEEDBACK CHALLENGE
1. THREE TRIGGERS
That Block Feedback
THREE FEEDBACK TRIGGERS
WHY WE GET TRIGGERED AND WHAT HELPS
1. TRUTH TRIGGERS: THE FEEDBACK IS WRONG, UNFAIR, UNHELPFUL
Separate Appreciation, Coaching, and Evaluation
First Understand
See Your Blind Spots
2. RELATIONSHIP TRIGGERS: I CAN’T HEAR THIS FEEDBACK FROM YOU
Don’t Switchtrack: Disentangle What from Who
Identify the Relationship System
3. IDENTITY TRIGGERS: THE FEEDBACK IS THREATENING AND I’M OFF
BALANCE
Learn How Wiring and Temperament Affect Your Story
Dismantle Distortions
Cultivate a Growth Identity
TRUTH TRIGGERS
2. SEPARATE APPRECIATION, COACHING, AND EVALUATION
ONE DAD, TWO REACTIONS
THERE ARE THREE KINDS OF FEEDBACK
APPRECIATION
COACHING
EVALUATION
WE NEED ALL THREE
EVALUATION SHORTFALLS
APPRECIATION SHORTFALLS
COACHING SHORTFALLS
BEWARE CROSS-TRANSACTIONS
A COMPLICATION: THERE IS ALWAYS EVALUATION IN COACHING
WHAT HELPS?
GET ALIGNED: KNOW THE PURPOSE AND DISCUSS IT
SEPARATE EVALUATION FROM COACHING AND APPRECIATION
3. FIRST UNDERSTAND
Shift from “That’s Wrong” to “Tell Me More”
WE’RE GOOD AT WRONG SPOTTING
UNDERSTANDING IS JOB ONE
FEEDBACK ARRIVES WITH GENERIC LABELS
GIVER AND RECEIVER INTERPRET THE LABEL DIFFERENTLY
Play “Spot the Label”
WHAT’S UNDER THE LABEL?
Coming From and Going To
ASK WHERE THE FEEDBACK IS COMING FROM
They Observe Data
They Interpret the Data
They Confuse Data and Interpretation (We All Do)
ASK WHERE THE FEEDBACK IS GOING
When Receiving Coaching: Clarify Advice
When Receiving Evaluation: Clarify Consequences and
Expectations
SHIFT FROM WRONG SPOTTING TO DIFFERENCE SPOTTING
DIFFERENT DATA
Biases Drive Data Collection
DIFFERENCES IN INTERPRETATION
Implicit Rules
Heroes and Villains
ASK: WHAT’S RIGHT?
WHEN YOU STILL DISAGREE
“WHY CAN’T FEEDBACK JUST BE OBJECTIVE?”
A CONVERSATION WITH COMMENTARY
PAUL’S PREPARATION: MINDSET AND GOALS
THE CONVERSATION
4. SEE YOUR BLIND SPOTS
Discover How You Come Across
THE GAP MAP
BEHAVIORAL BLIND SPOTS
YOUR LEAKY FACE
YOUR LEAKY TONE
YOUR LEAKY PATTERNS
E-MAIL BODY LANGUAGE
THEY MAY SEE EXACTLY WHAT WE ARE TRYING TO HIDE
THREE BLIND-SPOT AMPLIFIERS
AMPLIFIER 1: EMOTIONAL MATH
AMPLIFIER 2: SITUATION VERSUS CHARACTER
AMPLIFIER 3: IMPACT VERSUS INTENT
THE RESULT: OUR (GENERALLY POSITIVE) SELF
WE COLLUDE TO KEEP EACH OTHER IN THE DARK
WHAT HELPS US SEE OUR BLIND SPOTS?
USE YOUR REACTION AS A BLIND-SPOT ALERT
ASK: HOW DO I GET IN MY OWN WAY?
LOOK FOR PATTERNS
GET A SECOND OPINION
Honest Mirrors Versus Supportive Mirrors
RECORD YOURSELF
FOCUS ON CHANGE FROM THE INSIDE OUT
HAVE A PURPOSE
RELATIONSHIP TRIGGERS
5. DON’T SWITCHTRACK
Disentangle What from Who
RELATIONSHIP TRIGGERS CREATE SWITCHTRACK CONVERSATIONS
SWITCHTRACKING DEFEATS FEEDBACK
SILENT SWITCHTRACKING CAN BE WORSE
TWO RELATIONSHIP TRIGGERS
WHAT WE THINK ABOUT THEM
Skill or Judgment: How, When, or Where They Gave the Feedback
Credibility: They Don’t Know What They’re Talking About
Trust: Their Motives Are Suspect
SURPRISE PLAYERS IN THE FEEDBACK GAME
Strangers
Those You Least Like and Who Are Least Like You
HOW WE FEEL TREATED BY THEM
Appreciation
Autonomy
Acceptance
RELATIONSHIP TRIGGERS: WHAT HELPS?
SPOT THE TWO TOPICS
GIVE EACH TOPIC ITS OWN TRACK
Signposting
LISTEN FOR THE RELATIONSHIP ISSUES LURKING BENEATH THEIR
“ADVICE”
LOUIE AND KIM: TAKE TWO
6. IDENTIFY THE RELATIONSHIP SYSTEM
Take Three Steps Back
WHO IS THE PROBLEM AND WHO NEEDS TO CHANGE?
SEE THE RELATIONSHIP SYSTEM
TAKE THREE STEPS BACK
ONE STEP BACK: YOU + ME INTERSECTIONS
TWO STEPS BACK: ROLE CLASHES AND ACCIDENTAL ADVERSARIES
THREE STEPS BACK: THE BIG PICTURE (OTHER PLAYERS, PROCESSES,
POLICIES, AND STRUCTURES)
FEEDBACK THROUGH A SYSTEMS LENS
THE BENEFITS OF A SYSTEMS LENS
IT’S MORE ACCURATE
IT MOVES US AWAY FROM NEEDLESS JUDGMENT
IT ENHANCES ACCOUNTABILITY
IT HELPS CORRECT OUR TENDENCY TO SHIFT OR ABSORB
Blame Absorbers: It’s All Me
Blame Shifters: It’s Not Me
IT HELPS US AVOID “FIXES THAT FAIL”
TALKING ABOUT SYSTEMS
BE ON THE LOOKOUT
TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR YOUR PART
“HERE’S WHAT WOULD HELP ME CHANGE”
LOOK FOR THEMES: IS THIS A ME + EVERYBODY INTERSECTION?
USE THE SYSTEM TO SUPPORT CHANGE (NOT THWART IT)
IDENTITY TRIGGERS
7. LEARN HOW WIRING AND TEMPERAMENT AFFECT YOUR STORY
THE LIBERATION OF HARD WIRING
A BEHIND-THE-SCENES LOOK AT YOURSELF ON FEEDBACK
1. Baseline: The Beginning and End of the Arc
2. Swing: How Far Up or Down You Go
Bad Is Stronger Than Good
3. Sustain and Recovery: How Long Does the Swing Last?
Negative Recovery: Righty or Lefty?
Sustaining Positive Feelings
Four Sustain/Recovery Combinations
WIRING IS ONLY PART OF THE STORY
THE MAGIC 40
EMOTIONS DISTORT OUR SENSE OF THE FEEDBACK ITSELF
OUR STORIES HAVE AN EMOTIONAL SOUNDTRACK
THOUGHTS + FEELINGS = STORY
HOW FEELINGS EXAGGERATE FEEDBACK
OUR PAST: THE GOOGLE BIAS
OUR PRESENT: NOT ONE THING, EVERYTHING
OUR FUTURE: THE FOREVER BIAS AND SNOWBALLING
8. DISMANTLE DISTORTIONS
See Feedback at “Actual Size”
SETH TAKES A RELAXING VACATION
FIVE WAYS TO DISMANTLE DISTORTIONS
1. BE PREPARED, BE MINDFUL
Know Your Feedback Footprint
Inoculate Yourself Against the Worst
Notice What’s Happening
2. SEPARATE THE STRANDS: FEELING / STORY / FEEDBACK
Our Stories Shadowbox with the Past
3. CONTAIN THE STORY
Use a Feedback Containment Chart
Draw the Balancing Picture
Right-Size the Future Consequences
4. CHANGE YOUR VANTAGE POINT
Imagine You’re an Observer
Look Back from the Future
Cast the Comedy
5. ACCEPT THAT YOU CAN’T CONTROL HOW OTHERS SEE YOU
Have Compassion for Them
WHEN LIFE COMES DOWN HARD
DROWNING
ASK FOR SUPPORT
9. CULTIVATE A GROWTH IDENTITY
Sort Toward Coaching
FEEDBACK CAN ROCK OUR SENSE OF SELF
IDENTITY: OUR SELF-STORY
IS YOUR IDENTITY BRITTLE OR ROBUST?
GIVE UP SIMPLE LABELS AND CULTIVATE COMPLEXITY
KEEP IT OUT OR LET IT IN?
EMBRACE IDENTITY NUANCE
THREE THINGS TO ACCEPT ABOUT YOURSELF
You Will Make Mistakes
You Have Complex Intentions
You Have Contributed to the Problem
YOU’VE BEEN COMPLICATED ALL ALONG
SHIFT FROM A FIXED MINDSET TO A GROWTH MINDSET
PUZZLING KIDS
FIXED VERSUS GROWTH ASSUMPTIONS
BUT AREN’T SOME TRAITS FIXED?
IMPLICATIONS FOR HOW WE RESPOND TO FEEDBACK AND CHALLENGE
The Accuracy of Our Self-Perception
How We Listen to Feedback
How We Respond to Struggle Can Create Self-fulfilling Prophecies
The Framing Matters
MOVE TOWARD A GROWTH IDENTITY
PRACTICE #1: SORT TOWARD COACHING
Hear Coaching as Coaching
When Coaching and Evaluation Get Tangled
PRACTICE #2: UNPACK JUDGMENT FROM THE EVALUATION SUITCASE
PRACTICE #3: GIVE YOURSELF A “SECOND SCORE”
FEEDBACK IN CONVERSATION
10. HOW GOOD DO I HAVE TO BE?
Draw Boundaries When Enough Is Enough
FINDING BOUNDARIES, SETTING BOUNDARIES
THREE BOUNDARIES
1. I MAY NOT TAKE YOUR ADVICE
2. I DON’T WANT FEEDBACK ABOUT THAT SUBJECT, NOT RIGHT NOW
3. STOP, OR I WILL LEAVE THE RELATIONSHIP
HOW DO I KNOW IF BOUNDARIES ARE NEEDED?
DO THEY ATTACK YOUR CHARACTER, NOT JUST YOUR BEHAVIOR?
IS THE FEEDBACK UNRELENTING?
WHEN YOU DO CHANGE, IS THERE ALWAYS ONE MORE DEMAND?
DOES THE FEEDBACK GIVER TAKE THE RELATIONSHIP HOSTAGE?
ARE THEY ISSUING WARNINGS—OR MAKING THREATS?
IS IT ALWAYS YOU WHO HAS TO CHANGE?
ARE YOUR VIEWS AND FEELINGS A LEGITIMATE PART OF THE
RELATIONSHIP?
WHERE BOUNDARIES WOULD HELP: SOME COMMON RELATIONSHIP
PATTERNS
THE CONSTANT CRITIC
HATE-LOVE-HATE RELATIONSHIPS
RENOVATION RELATIONSHIPS
BUT WAIT, DOES THAT MEAN . . . ?
TURNING AWAY FEEDBACK WITH GRACE AND HONESTY
BE TRANSPARENT: ACTUALLY TELL THEM
BE FIRM—AND APPRECIATIVE
REDIRECT UNHELPFUL COACHING
USE “AND”
BE SPECIFIC ABOUT YOUR REQUEST
DESCRIBE CONSEQUENCES
YOU HAVE A DUTY TO MITIGATE THE COST TO OTHERS
INQUIRE ABOUT, AND ACKNOWLEDGE, THE IMPACT ON THEM
COACH THEM TO DEAL WITH THE UNCHANGED YOU
PROBLEM SOLVE TOGETHER
11. NAVIGATE THE CONVERSATION
KEYFRAMES OF THE CONVERSATION
THE ARC OF THE CONVERSATION: OPEN-BODY-CLOSE
OPEN BY GETTING ALIGNED
CLARIFY PURPOSE, CHECK STATUS
1. Is This Feedback? If So, What Kind?
2. Who Decides?
3. Is This Final or Negotiable?
YOU CAN INFLUENCE THE FRAME AND AGENDA
BODY: FOUR SKILLS FOR MANAGING THE CONVERSATION
LISTEN FOR WHAT’S RIGHT (AND WHY THEY SEE IT DIFFERENTLY)
Your Internal Voice Is Crucial
Triggered: From Assistant to Bodyguard
When Empathy Shuts Down
What Helps? Listen with a Purpose
Prepare to Listen
Find the Trigger Patterns
And Then Negotiate
Listening’s Second Purpose: To Let Them Know You Hear Them
Beware Hot Inquiry
ASSERT WHAT’S LEFT OUT
Shift from “I’m Right” to “Here’s What’s Left Out”
Common Assertion Mistakes
Truth Mistakes
Relationship Mistakes
Identity Mistakes
BE YOUR OWN PROCESS REFEREE
Process Moves: Diagnose, Describe, Propose
PROBLEM SOLVE TO CREATE POSSIBILITIES
Create Possibilities
Dig for Underlying Interests
Three Sources of Interests Behind Feedback
Generate Options
CLOSE WITH COMMITMENT
PUTTING IT ALL TOGETHER: A CONVERSATION IN MOTION
AN EVALUATION CONVERSATION ABOUT RATINGS AND BONUSES
Version One
Version Two
Version Three
Version Four: A More Skillful Conversation
12. GET GOING
Five Ways to Take Action
NAME ONE THING
ASK: “WHAT’S ONE THING YOU SEE ME DOING THAT GETS IN MY OWN
WAY?”
LISTEN FOR THEMES
ASK WHAT MATTERS TO THEM
TRY SMALL EXPERIMENTS
DON’T DECIDE, EXPERIMENT
Try It On
Try It Out
You May Be Surprised
IT’S NOT ALL-AND-ALWAYS
RIDE OUT THE J CURVE
TWO DECISION MAKERS
INCREASE THE POSITIVE APPEAL OF CHANGE
Make It Social
Keep Score
INCREASE THE COST OF NOT CHANGING
Tie Yourself to the Mast
Recognize the J Curve
COACH YOUR COACH
WHAT COACHING YOUR COACH DOESN’T MEAN
TALK ABOUT “FEEDBACK AND YOU”
DISCUSS PREFERENCES, ROLES, AND MUTUAL EXPECTATIONS
HIERARCHY AND TRUST
DON’T BECOME A GIMME-FEEDBACK FANATIC
YOUR COACH CAN HELP YOU GET IN SYNC
WHEN THE PERSON BEING COACHED IS THE BOSS
INVITE THEM IN
A GOOD LISTENER ASKS FOR HELP
A FRUSTRATED ADVISER OPENS UP
PERFECT FEEDBACK FOR THE PERFECT PERSON
SHIFTING MIRRORS
We Triangulate for Comfort, but Not Coaching
Hank Has a Hunch
Make Two Lists to Stay on Track
13. PULL TOGETHER
Feedback in Organizations
THERE ARE NO PERFECT FEEDBACK SYSTEMS
CAN’T LIVE WITH IT, CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT IT
WHAT LEADERSHIP AND HR CAN DO
1. DON’T JUST TRUMPET BENEFITS, EXPLAIN TRADEOFFS
2. SEPARATE APPRECIATION, COACHING, AND EVALUATION
3. PROMOTE A CULTURE OF LEARNERS
Highlight Learning Stories
Cultivate Growth Identities
Discuss Second Scores
Create Multitrack Feedback
Leverage Positive Social Norming
WHAT TEAM LEADERS AND FEEDBACK GIVERS CAN DO
1. MODEL LEARNING, REQUEST COACHING
2. AS GIVERS, MANAGE YOUR OWN MINDSET AND IDENTITY
3. BE AWARE OF HOW INDIVIDUAL DIFFERENCES COLLIDE IN
ORGANIZATIONS
WHAT RECEIVERS CAN DO
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